Close Ties
by Sagewhisker
Summary: A series of one-shots based on the Warriors Wish list of shippings. Will eventually write about most of them. Please R&R.
1. Abandonshipping

**A/N**: I have nothing better to do (besides work on fanfiction), so I've decided to take the Warriors Wish shipping list and write a oneshot for each shipping there (except maybe for the characters I've never read about). Some will be romantic, others…maybe not so much. Yay! – I guess?

**Abandonshipping**

Ashfur x Cloudtail

Three cats raced through the forest. Each was a blur – gray, white, and ginger. The cats were so close together in their race that it seemed they were running together. Gradually, though, the ginger cat separated from the pack as the group reached the edge of the forest. The gray and white cats skidded to a halt and watched as the ginger cat took a flying leap, scrambling over a white picket fence.

"And don't come back, kittypet!" yowled the gray tom. His fur was bristling, accenting the dark patches that speckled his pelt. "This is ThunderClan territory! You don't belong here!"

The white tom did not join in with the gray tom's jeers, but instead watched the fence with narrowed blue eyes. Eventually, the gray tom beside him stopped his heckling and turned to look at his partner.

"Nice run, Cloudtail," he meowed, suddenly much friendlier.

_Sure,_ Cloudtail thought,_ but what if I had been on the other end of that run? Would it have been so nice then?_ If Fireheart had not brought him to the forest, the white warrior would still be living in Twolegplace. Would he have been tempted out into the forest like the ginger cat? Would he have been chased away just the same?

Cloudtail replied, "Sure. Let's head back now, Ashfur."

The gray speckled tom blinked. "You're unusually serious. What? No smart remark?"

"Let's pick up our prey. It's that way, right?" Cloudtail meowed, distracted, turning to look into the forest. _Home. Should it even be home?_

"Hey, what's wrong?" Ashfur persisted. He stepped in front of Cloudtail, cocking his head to the side, confused. "Did you pull a claw, or something?"

"No," Cloudtail snapped. "Can't you just leave it?"

"No," Ashfur echoed, shaking his head.

Cloudtail growled, "And why not?"

"Because you're my friend," Ashfur meowed simply. Cloudtail looked sharply at him, but the concern present in the gray warrior's blue eyes was sincere. "I want to know why you're acting like a wounded duck."

_Wounded duck?_ Cloudtail thought, startled. _Only Ashfur would come up with something so ridiculous._

"Well?" Ashfur mewed, tapping his tail tip impatiently against the ground. Cloudtail paused a moment longer, wondering if he should say anything; his kittypet origin was not something he enjoyed talking about with his Clanmates, especially now that most of them seemed to have forgotten. What if Ashfur let something slip back at camp? He abruptly shook his head. _No. He wouldn't do that._ _He's right. We are friends. I can trust him with this_.

"Do you think I belong in ThunderClan?" he meowed suddenly, flattening his ears awkwardly.

Ashfur stared at him incredulously. "What kind of mousebrained question is that?"

"I was a kittypet," Cloudtail meowed, ignoring the gray tom's outburst.

Ashfur fell silent. Cloudtail saw his eyes shift toward Twolegplace. _It's no secret that Ashfur hates kittypets. Does he hate me?_

"You're no kittypet," Ashfur mewed finally, his tone decisive.

"I have kittypet blood, though," Cloudtail pressed, not satisfied with the answer. "Of course I'm a kittypet."

The gray tom glared at him. "Do you look like a kittypet?"

"No," Cloudtail mewed.

"Do you act like a kittypet?" continued Ashfur, his gaze boring into Cloudtail's.

"No," meowed the white warrior again.

"Then you're not a kittypet," Ashfur concluded. His hard stare disappeared like evaporating mist and he leaned forward and touched his nose fondly to the tip of Cloudtail's ear. "And I don't want to hear about you ever thinking otherwise. You deserve to be here, just as much as any other cat. ThunderClan is your kin."

Cloudtail watched him for a moment. _He's right about one thing: ThunderClan is my family now. Maybe it doesn't matter where I came from…_

"Let's go back now. I'm really looking forward to sharing that rabbit with you," Ashfur meowed. He got up and flicked Cloudtail's shoulder with his tail, tauntingly. "Come on, I'll race you."

_No, it doesn't matter._

"_You_ race _me_? That's hardly fair," Cloudtail crowed. "You're on!"

Together the two toms raced off back into the depths of the forest, their pelts becoming a blur once again.


	2. Alleyshipping

**A/N**: I never read the Tigerstar and Sasha manga, so I've no idea what sort of relationship is going on between Pine and Sasha, so I've skipped Adieushipping, at least for now. I may or may not pick it up later. I have, however, read The Rise of Scourge, so…

**Alleyshipping**

Bone x Brick

It was a dark night. Thick cloud cover dimmed the moonlight, so that the gory scene at Fourtrees was just barely illuminated. Blood was streaked, still drying, on rocks, grass, and trees. The low bumps of upturned soil indicated the places of several new graves, while several other bodies still lay strewn around the clearing. All was still, save for the gentle rise and fall of a single cat's flank. The ginger she-cat's ears were pricked and her eyes were open wide, as though she expected to be attacked at any moment.

A dead cat lay in front of her. She shifted her weight with difficulty, so that she could look down at him. Several long gashes, made by her enemies' claws marked her body; blood was crusted around most of the cuts, with only the worst still oozing. She did not flinch with the pain.

"How strong are you now?" she meowed. Her words were harsh, but there was no fire behind them. "Do you still think this was a good idea?"

She had not wanted to follow Scourge. That had been _his_ idea.

Before BloodClan had been borne from Scourge's hate, the cats who joined it had mostly lived apart, very rarely forming attachments to the other street cats. It was a hard life. There was never enough food. Twolegs and dogs threatened the cats every day. The thought of death haunted each one of them every day. The strongest cats tried their best to help the others fight off attackers, but most often only ended up getting killed themselves.

The ginger she-cat had been one of the strongest, but also one of the cleverest. That is how she survived.

That is also how the black-and-white tom in front of her had survived. And that is why they had been companions. Her loyalty was first and foremost to herself and her own wellbeing, but she found that helping the tom also helped her. Having another strong, devoted cat by her side made it far easier to find food and to defeat enemies. They did not have to like each other to help each other out. In time, though, she came to trust him.

Scourge's arrival upset the fragile balance amongst the street cats. Once the cats saw him defeat a thieving dog, they became wary of him. Never before had there been such a feat of strength shown to them.

The ginger she-cat had been wary of Scourge, as well. There was something in his frosty blue eyes that made her distrustful of him. He was far too greedy. It was dangerous.

When the black-and-white tom had asked her about persuading the cats to follow Scourge, she had been shocked. For the first time in moons, she found herself suspicious of the tom's motives. He argued that it would be for the good of all cats to have a strong leader to stand behind. All the ginger cat heard was him wanting a leader to control them. She could not ignore the hunger in the tom's expression; she knew the only reason he wanted to follow Scourge was because he knew he would be second-in-command and hold far greater power than he ever did before.

And so would she, she realized. But that was not what she wanted. She wanted security, not power. She was not convinced Scourge would bring that.

After Scourge drove out a band of forest cats from the town, the ginger cat conceded. There was no denying that Scourge was a powerful cat. He was no stronger than she, or even stronger than her companion. But he was charismatic, and terrifying as well. He inspired loyalty. The cats of Twolegplace were stronger together. She could not argue against that.

So, she agreed. They offered their allegiance to Scourge and started the perilous descent into a world of blood and fear. Soon, others joined them. Eventually, they ruled Twolegplace.

No longer needing each other, she and the black-and-white tom grew apart. They were two of the most powerful cats in Twolegplace, equals in every way, just as they had always been. The only thing that had changed was the black-and-white tom's brutality. She knew he no longer cared about protecting their neighbors and kin elsewhere in the town. Just like Scourge, he learned to live for blood. She could never bring herself to.

The ginger cat stared at the tom for a moment longer, considering him, then bent her neck and pressed her nose briefly into his pelt.

"You were never my friend, Bone," Brick meowed, raising her head, her voice hard and emotionless, "but I will miss you."


	3. Altershipping

**Altershipping**

Scourge x Firestar

A ginger tom stalked through the forest. His neck was stretched, his fur was laying flat, and his tail was held straight out, so as not to rustle the bracken around him and give away his position. His mouth opened and he drew in a quick breath. _Mouse, straight ahead._

Taking one careful pawstep after another, he slithered forward. He could hear the mouse now; his ears swiveled toward the sound of the rodent's heartbeat. A few steps later, he halted, spotting the mouse scuffling about under some fallen leaves. The tom slowly lowered himself into a crouch, tensing the muscles in his hind legs. His haunches swayed back and forth for a brief moment as he unsheathed his claws. And then he leapt.

The mouse shot out from the leaves, but it was far too late. The ginger tom's claws hooked the mouse and he tossed it up into the air. As soon as it fell to the ground, he was upon it again. It struggled against his claws as he pinned it to the ground, but he lunged forward and bit down on its neck, snapping its spine. He held his grip for a few minutes, making sure the mouse was dead, before lifting his head again, leaving the mouse at his paws. He murmured, "Thank you, StarClan, for the life of this mouse. My Clan will be stronger because of…"

He trailed off as he caught scent of another cat. It was not the scent of a Clan cat, but it was not unfamiliar. His eyes widened and his fur bristled as he recognized it. He shuddered, thinking about the cat it belonged to. _But I killed him!_

The mouse lay forgotten at his paws as he arched his back and gingerly turned in a complete circle. His eyes darted wildly from side to side, trying to find where the scent was coming from. Was it possible that this old enemy of his had never died?

_No, it's not possible_, he decided, though he still looked apprehensive. _I saw him die._

A strong wind picked up, picking up the dead leaves on the ground and blowing away the terrifying scent. The tom took a deep, steadying breath. All he could smell now was the warm, inviting scent of the mouse at his paws. He steeled himself, shoving away his anxiety, and bent to pick up the mouse. He grasped the small body in his teeth and jogged toward his camp confidently. _I have nothing to fear._

"Is that right, Firestar?"

He dropped the mouse; the soft vibration it made hitting the ground sent ice cold shivers up his already shaking legs. It was _his_ voice.

"I killed you!" he growled, trying to keep his voice steady. "You're not real!"

"Did you really think you could kill me so easily?"

The wind picked up again, this time stronger than before, carrying the sharp tang of blood. Firestar's heart raced and he squeezed his eyes shut. The blades of wind felt like claws against his pelt.

"No," he choked. He struggled to open his eyes. He repeated himself, "You're _not_ _real._"

Laughter. _His_ laughter. "I'm very real."

Something invisible brushed by Firestar. The ThunderClan leader lashed out, but his claws met nothing but air. He aimed a few more blind swipes around him, but caught nothing. "Show yourself, then!"

"Another day, Firestar. I will haunt you until…"

The voice dwindled off as a ray of sunshine cut through the branches above, illuminating the ThunderClan leader's pelt so it burned like fire. Firestar felt its warmth and drank in its protection. _Thank you, StarClan_.

He knew his enemy was right: the forest, and especially Firestar, would never be rid of his dark legacy. But he also knew that, just like last time, his warrior ancestors would protect him, fighting just as fiercely as he ever could to banish the cold spirit from existence. That tom, that _evil_ tom, had no place in the forest. He could never come back.

Reassured, Firestar bent down and picked up his mouse again. He did not hesitate before walking off deeper into the forest, his pelt lit up by sunlight each step of the way.

**A/N**: This one was…sort of harder. What exactly are you supposed to write about Firestar and Scourge besides fighting or something ridiculous about them being half-brothers? Well…this story, I guess. I hope its okay.

Oh, and it would be nice if someone reviewed. I'm looking at this list of shippings and its length is very daunting, to say the least. I'm going to take it on, no matter what, but some reviews would be very motivating. (…)


	4. Autumnshipping

**A/N**: Fweee! A review! xD Yay! Thanks so much, Mossnose. :D

Anyway, Ancientshipping and Angelshipping are being skipped because I'm not familiar enough with the characters. I stopped reading the series after Outcast, so I'm a bit behind the times, I guess. Icecloud had just barely become Icepaw the last time I read about her, and I know virtually nothing about her character. Likewise, I know who Fallen Leaves is, but I know something else happened later in POT with the ancients that I _don't_ know about, so…

Just like with Pine and Sasha, I'm going to postpone all pairings I don't know about until I finish with the ones I do know. Then I can go research and what not. (Thanks, though, for the offer, Mossnose!)

**Autumnshipping**

Firestar x Leafstar

The snowstorm outside was building. The wicked wind picked up the already fallen snow and whipped it up in stinging flurries. It was impossible to hear anything but the roar of the wind. No cat was out in this dangerous weather; the SkyClan leader would not allow it.

Leafstar lay in her den above the gorge, curled up against the cold. Her eyes narrowed and her body quivered. Her tabby fur had grown thicker as the temperature of the forest had plummeted, but her dense coat could not protect her from the unease she felt every day. The brown-and-cream she-cat shook again. The thought of her Clan depending on her so absolutely unnerved her. What if she made a mistake? What if she failed?

She wished he was still here. His presence had made her strong before. Now that he was gone, she felt weak.

Leafstar watched for him every night, the tom with the flame-colored pelt who had brought this broken Clan together and taught every cat what it meant to be a warrior, to be fierce, loyal, and compassionate. He had fought alongside them, even though he did not share their blood or history. He had given hope and purpose to cats who had once lead futile, meaningless lives. He had made them warriors. He had made them _SkyClan_.

And then he had left.

The tabby knew from the moment she heard Firestar's story that he would not stay forever. He had his own Clan to return to, after all. But, still, she became dependent on his charisma, wisdom, and strength to guide her own pawsteps. Even after her leadership ceremony, she found it hard to imagine ever leading the Clan on her own. She had the support of her warrior ancestors then, but still, it was not the same.

She tucked her nose deeper into her dappled fur. A nagging thought prickled at her mind: _Sandstorm helped too. Why don't you think of her the same way?_

_Sandstorm taught me how to fight,_ she argued with herself,_ but she was never a Clan leader. She couldn't teach me everything._

She sniffed, not sure she was being completely honest with herself.

"Leafstar!"

She perked up at the sound of her deputy. The ginger tabby clawed his way into her den, his fur rigid with frost. She watched as he lowered his head respectfully to her before meowing, hoping she sounded confident, "Yes, Sharpclaw?"

"Look down in the gorge," meowed the tabby tom. He slid over past Leafstar, deeper into the warmth of the den. "There's a cat down there."

"One of ours?" she mewed in alarm.

"A kittypet," Sharpclaw replied, flattening his ears. Though he tried to hide it, disdain layered his voice; Leafstar narrowed her eyes at him in warning.

_Every cat has worth_. _It's a leader's duty to find that worth_.

Firestar's words resonated in her head. She turned to look at the struggling kittypet lower in the gorge. He shook from side to side, buffeted by the wind. It was clear that he had no idea where he was, or even that he was surrounded by other cats. She saw his jaws open and close several times, and she imagined what his pitiful calls would sound like.

Leafstar picked herself up slowly, stiff from the cold, and stepped forward until she felt the snow on her face. The gray-and-white kittypet was still struggling beneath them. She studied him intently, watching as he fell again and again, and picked himself up every time. She felt a rush of admiration for the tom. He would be used to a comfortable life and had been foolish enough to put himself in such a perilous situation, but his determination to keep moving now proved that he had the instinct and will to survive. She took a step out of her den into the wind-whipped gorge.

"Where are you going?" meowed Sharpclaw, surprised.

_True warriors never ignore a cat in need, no matter who that cat might be._

Another lesson from Firestar flashed in her mind. She meowed, "He needs to come inside. It's too cold for him to be out."

Before Sharpclaw could protest, she pressed forward and leapt onto the ledge just beneath her den. She landed nimbly and her claws extended to grasp the icy rock beneath her. She leapt down another level, and then another, careful to keep her grip, until she was at the bottom of the gorge. She squinted against the cold air and searched through the swirling snow until she found a darker smudge against the white.

"Hey!" she called, unsure if the tom could hear her. She bounded toward him. With each leap, his figure became more defined, until she could clearly make out his shape. She called again, "Come here!"

The tom raised his head weakly and turned to look at her. She took a final jump toward him and pressed herself against his side, hoping to share whatever warmth she had left in her. To her surprise, the tom recoiled, hissing, "Who are you?"

Leafstar was taken aback. She had not expected the kittypet, in his sorry state, to resist. She moved so that she was standing on the opposite side of the tom as the gorge and yowled over the wind, "Get inside!"

She pushed against his shoulder with her head, steering him toward the lowest den, which belonged to their medicine cat, Echosong. The silver she-cat had vacated the den, moving in with the warriors, after snow found its way in. Leafstar knew, though, that the very back of the cave would be warm and dry.

Once the pair of them got closer, the kittypet's pace picked up as he realized that shelter was ahead. Leafstar matched his strides and followed him into the den. He again surprised her once they reached the back of the cave when he turned on her and hissed again, "Who are you?"

"I am Leafstar," she meowed calmly. "I am the leader of SkyClan, a group of cats who call this gorge home."

The tom still remained hostile. "Why did you bring me in here?"

_He's fierce_, she thought. _He could be a bit more polite, though._

Rather than letting his words escalate into an unnecessary argument, Leafstar dipped her head cordially and meowed, "I wanted to give you shelter until the storm passed." She watched as a flicker of distrust appeared in the kittypet's eyes. "I will not keep you here if you wish to leave."

The kittypet blinked a few times, then looked away. He shook his pelt, spattering the sides of the den with snow. He mewed, "Why would you help me?"

"No cat deserves to be left out in _that_ weather," Leafstar mewed, flicking her tail to the snowstorm outside. "SkyClan warriors do not stand by and do nothing while other cats suffer."

"Warriors?" the tom questioned.

_That a cat is inquisitive is the first thing to look for. A cat must be willing to listen and to learn to be a warrior._

Leafstar noticed that his hostility seemed to be lessening and the tom seemed genuinely interested in what she was saying. "There will be much time passed before this storm ends. I can explain to you about SkyClan, if you would like."

The gray-and-white tom stared at her for what felt like a moon, standing very still like a stone. Finally, he sat down. Leafstar mirrored him and he meowed, "I would like that very much."

_Perhaps another addition to the Clan, _Leafstar thought. She purred, "Very well. May I ask your name before I begin?"

The tom dipped his head, as she did earlier, and meowed, "My name is Buzz."

"It's nice to meet you, Buzz," mewed Leafstar. She slid onto her belly, letting her legs fold beneath her, as she started to tell her story – the same story that Firestar had told her just a few moons earlier. She was surprised at how easily the words came to her and how strongly she felt about them. For the first time in moons, she felt completely empowered.

As she finished her story, she took a deep breath. Buzz had looked away thoughtfully, and Leafstar took the moment as an opportunity to close her eyes. She pictured the ginger tom once more. In her mind's eye, she saw him incline his head: a clear show of approval. She sighed.

_Thank you, Firestar, for everything. I think we'll be just fine here._


	5. Barbequeshipping

**A/N**:I was having internet problems earlier, so I just went ahead and wrote this while I was waiting. So two more down in one update. Yay…?

And…I'm drawing a blank on some of the upcoming pairings. (Who ships Jayfeather and Heathertail, anyway? ._.;; I don't get it.)

**Barbequeshipping**

Fireheart x Cinderpelt

_It was Greenleaf and the forest was teeming with life. The songs of birds echoed through the tree branches and the scent of plentiful prey drifted on the wind. The bracken rustled as a butterfly flitted by. A paw flashed out, batting the butterfly out of the air._

"_Got you!" purred a gray she-cat, leaping out from the undergrowth. Her eyes gleamed as she looked down at her fallen prey, then she meowed, "I'm going to be the best hunter in all of ThunderClan!"_

"_I'm sure you will be," came a smooth mew from beneath the ferns behind her. She turned excitedly to see a bright ginger tom slide out from underneath the foliage to join her._

"_Fireheart!" she meowed, twisting to butt her head playfully against the tom's shoulder._

"_Cinderpaw," mewed the tom back. He inclined his head and touched noses with her; she felt a shock run through her body at his touch. "It's time for battle training."_

"_Okay," the gray she-cat mewed, her tail raised happily._

_She dropped into a crouch and leaped at Fireheart's shoulders. The tom sidestepped before she could reach him, and she flew past him. She skidded as she came back to the ground and spun around, pivoting on one leg. She complained, "No fair!"_

"_You should be faster," meowed Fireheart. The tom leapt at her and she braced herself, ready to defend, but he jumped over her, landed nimbly, and raced deeper into the forest. "Catch me if you can!"_

_The gray she-cat chased after him. "I'll catch you!"_

_She lost sight of him in the thick undergrowth, but she could hear the thudding of his pawsteps ahead of her. She kicked out harder, picking up her pace. Gradually, the thudding got louder, until she spotted the ginger tom's pelt as he leapt up and over a fallen log. She cleared the log a heartbeat later; her belly fur skimmed the bark as she jumped. As soon as she landed, she was hit by a heavy weight._

"_Fireheart!" she growled as her paws were lifted from the ground._

_Suddenly, her vision was obscured by ginger fur. She wrapped her legs around Fireheart's body as they began to roll, over leaves, ferns, and snapping twigs. A cry of exhilaration escaped her as the ground disappeared beneath them and they tumbled down a short ravine. As they hit the bottom, she wrestled with her mentor for a few more seconds, but Fireheart managed to twist her on to her back and pin her down with one paw on her chest. He narrowed his eyes warmly. He purred, "Got you."_

_She battered his belly with her hind legs a few more times before giving up. The gray she-cat growled, "You cheated."_

_He purred again; amusement shone in his eyes. The annoyance the gray she-cat felt faded and a purr began to rumble in her throat. She was having so much fun. In this moment, nothing mattered but him and her, together. She reached up and pressed her muzzle to his. Static crackled between them. She could feel her heart racing._

"_Cinderpelt?"_

"_Who's Cinderpelt?" she mewed, lost in the moment._

"_Cinderpelt!"_

The medicine cat snapped awake with a start and blinked the dream from her eyes. As the blurry world around her slowly came into focus, the smudge of ginger fur in front of her alerted her to who had come into her den. She mewed, "Fireheart, what is it?"

She raised her head from her paws and unwrapped her tail from around her body. A handsome ginger tom was standing in front of her, one paw raised from the ground. He meowed, "I stepped on a thorn while on patrol."

"How silly of you," she mewed dryly. She nosed his paw lightly, examining where the thorn had pierced his pad.

"I didn't mean to!" he protested.

Cinderpelt's whiskers twitched, amused. "Well, let me get that out for you. We don't want it infected, do we?"

As she leaned forward and gripped the thorn with her teeth, she was aware of the ginger tom's focus on her; she could feel his warm breath stirring the fur on her neck. She gave the thorn a firm tug; the lack of resistance told her that it had come out cleanly. The medicine cat dropped the barb and returned her attention to Fireheart's paw. There was just a small cut where the thorn used to be. The taste of his blood on her tongue was clean; she knew the wound was not infected.

"Give your paw a good lick," she meowed. "You'll be fine."

Fireheart raised his paw and rasped his tongue against it a few times; the sour expression on his face showed that it stung. He placed his paw on the ground again and meowed, "Thanks, Cinderpelt. You're a great medicine cat."

The gray she-cat looked away sharply, pretending to fiddle with the thorn, as a flicker of unease appeared in her eyes. Fireheart's compliment stung her. _I would have been an even better warrior._

She took a deep breath and swept the thorn to the side of her den with her tail. Forcing the look of despair from her face, she asked, "Anything else bothering you?"

Fireheart shook his head. "Not right now."

"Then off you go," she meowed, butting her head against his shoulder. "I'm very busy…"

"You were sleeping!"

"…and so are you," she finished. Fireheart flashed her a suspicious look and she growled, "The Gathering is tonight. I have to get together some strengthening herbs for Bluestar, and you, Clan deputy, should…"

"Talk to her. I know," meowed Fireheart, his ears flattening. He seemed to struggle with himself for a moment before continuing, "You're right. Thanks again."

"Any time," she meowed breathlessly as he spun around quickly and left the den. She watched as he headed straight for the Highrock, paused briefly, and stepped through the hanging lichen into their leader's den.

Once the tip of his tail disappeared, Cinderpelt turned back, facing the inside of her den. The familiar ache of her once-broken leg caused her to wince. Her lids were heavy, but she forced her eyes to stay open. As much as she wanted to return to the blissful, perfect world of her dreams, she knew she had responsibilities to her Clan here and now. She could not continue to live in the past.

Sighing, she pawed a few dark leaves from her store and began counting them. As she counted, she thought to herself: _I will not break my vows. I cannot allow myself to let my emotions get the best of me._

She separated the dark leaves into two piles and swept one of them away. Her paw reached out for some chamomile and she closed her eyes, lowering her chin solemnly.

_But that doesn't mean I don't love you, Fireheart._


	6. Barnshipping

**Barnshipping**

Daisy x Smoky

Daisy raised her head, trying to get a better look at the newest cats to make the lake their home. She felt several tiny paws nudge her in protest as she stretched her body out; she fell back, not wanting to harm her unborn kits.

Though her companion, Smoky, had already turned away back toward the barn, Daisy found herself intrigued by these new cats. Just from the front line that she could see, there were cats of every size and color among them: a big brown tabby, a small white she-cat, a ginger tom with the brightest pelt she had ever seen. The way these cats acted intrigued her. She knew from their strong postures and sharp glares that these cats were far fiercer than any cat she knew. And, yet, she found that she trusted them when they assured her and Smoky that they did not hurt kits.

"Daisy!" Smoky hissed from behind her.

The cream-colored she-cat looked back to see the gray-and-white tom standing in the tall grass, his tail lashing impatiently. She shot one last glance at the wild cats before turning to join him.

"I'll have their fur off if they come anywhere near our barn," growled Smoky when they had put some distance between them and the other cats.

"I don't think even you could fight off so many cats, Smoky," mewed Daisy, her voice soft and quiet. "I don't think we have to worry about them, though."

The gray-and-white tom sniffed dismissively. "You're too trusting, Daisy. They could really hurt the new litter."

"You seem very protective of Floss's kits," she challenged, a hard edge lacing her words. She was annoyed with Smoky's complete disregard for her opinion.

"They're my kits, too," he meowed.

The she-cat twitched her ears, but said nothing. Instead she focused on parting the grass in front of her with her nose, giving her paws a path to walk on. She knew her mate meant well; he was only looking out for Floss, her littermate and their third companion in the barn, and her newest litter. She ground her teeth, though, wishing he could have a little more tact. _He should remember that Floss is not the only cat he's had kits with._

A few steps later, the grass started to thin and the looming figure of the barn came into sight. Once they were out of the field, Smoky broke into a run. Daisy hesitated before following him and cast a quick glance back toward the lake. She saw the full moon's reflection on the water and realized that it was nearly midnight.

She slipped into the barn behind the gray-and-white tom, to find that he was walking straight toward Floss and her kits. Daisy bit back a hiss as he curled into her nest behind her, touching his nose tenderly to her ear. Jealousy burned in the cream she-cat's eyes. She veered away and headed for the other side of the barn. As she scratched some hay together into a nest for herself, she felt her jealousy fading into despair and then into frustration. She settled down into her nest and tried her best to ignore the others, not wanting to be part of their conversation.

Soon, though, her curiosity got the better of her, and she could not help but to sneak another glance at the others. She was surprised to see Smoky looking back at her, over Floss, with the same frustrated look in his eyes. Just before she looked away, she caught a glimpse of the gray-and-white tom lifting himself from his nest and walking toward her.

"Daisy," he mewed as he approached. His meow was gruff, as usual, but the cream-colored she-cat detected a hint of concern in his voice.

She refused to look at him. "What do you want?"

"What's bothering you?" he meowed, leaning over and nosing her cheek.

Daisy pulled away and growled; her fur bristled angrily. Still, though, she found it hard to speak the words she wanted to say to him. She stared into his eyes, glaring at him, trying to find something to hate. She could not.

"Smoky," she mewed, quietly so that Floss could not hear, "why did you want to have kits with me?"

The gray-and-white tom looked taken aback. "Daisy, I…"

"You love Floss," Daisy interrupted. Hurt crept into her expression, weakening her glare as she mewed, "You don't love me."

Smoky blinked. His ears flattened uneasily. He mewed again, "Daisy, I…"

"Just say it," the cream she-cat interjected. "Say you don't…"

The tom brushed his tail across her mouth, cutting her off. His solemn stare bored into her and he meowed, "Daisy, I do love Floss." The she-cat's fur flattened, pressing against her skin uncomfortably, as her heart sank. Smoky went on, "But I love you too."

Daisy looked up, searching her mate's face for any sign of deception; she found none. She leaned forward, pressing her cheek against his, returning his affection from before. She had no words for what she was feeling in that moment.

Smoky held himself against her briefly before getting up again, twisting his neck to look at Floss and the kits. Without looking at Daisy, he mewed, "Floss just needs me more right now."

Without another word, he picked up his paws and stepped out of her nest. The cream-colored she-cat watched him closely. He walked back to the other side of the barn, never looking back.

Daisy watched him and her sister for a moment longer, then curled up more tightly and rested her chin on her paws. Finally, she found the words described what she was feeling, both reassuring and painful: _You love me, Smoky. I know you do. But you love Floss more._

She drifted off into sleep.


	7. Betrayalshipping

**A/N**: This next chapter was particularly hard to come up with anything for. I get that Bluestar x Tigerclaw is a serious fandom shipping (because Bluestar becomes so upset by Tigerclaw's betrayal, there must be some relationship going on…!), but I think it's rather silly. I find crack easier to write than this pairing. Add that to being unbearably hard and you get this: a somewhat pointless, extremely short chapter.

But I digress. This was hard. I hope it's halfway decent, at least. Next up, Bloodshipping (which is even more odd, if that's possible). I bet I'll have no problem with that….

**Betrayalshipping**

Bluestar x Tigerclaw

Bluestar was surrounded by her Clanmates, the cats she had grown up with and had vowed to protect with her life, but, in this moment, she had eyes only for two of them.

To her side stood Fireheart, the cat chosen by StarClan to save ThunderClan. The ginger tom's pelt was littered with cuts and scratches, but his eyes burned like flames, with more passion than she had seen from any cat for moons. He was staring ahead with no hint of triumph in his stance, only a hard determination to reveal the truth.

Below her lay Tigerclaw, sprawled on the ground. Fur was missing from his neck and a gash in his belly still oozed blood. His flank was quivering, rising and falling with each of his shallow breaths. The huge brown tabby was staring at Fireheart with hatred; his claws dug into the ground.

"…who would expect Tigerclaw, the loyal deputy, to lay a claw on his leader?"

_Not me_, Bluestar thought. Fireheart's words stabbed her like the sharpest claws. She had thought she knew Tigerclaw, but now she realized that she had thought wrong. The brave, strong warrior she thought was her greatest ally had become her greatest enemy. _Oh, Tigerclaw, what happens now?_

"Kill him!"

"Blind him!"

"Drive him out of the forest!"

Bluestar closed her eyes and clenched her teeth. The screaming of her own thoughts drowned out the Clan's outraged yowls. _I trusted you! How could you do this to me?_

Ever since her first deputy, Redtail, had been killed – by Tigerclaw, himself, Bluestar realized with another stab of pain – the ThunderClan leader had been dependent on the brown tabby's tempered judgment. Even though Lionheart had been her deputy then, Tigerclaw had always been another source of strength and advice. She had leaned heavily on him, even then; when Lionheart died, she was almost relieved to be able to finally make the brown tabby her deputy. _Did you cause that attack too, Tigerclaw? Was it just another piece of your plan?_

"Tigerclaw," she meowed, finally, "have you anything to say in your defense?"

She opened her eyes slowly, almost afraid to meet Tigerclaw's gaze. Once, she would have jumped at the chance to look at him, to talk to him; in Tigerclaw she had found another cat who had struggled with as much disappointment as she had. His power, his charisma – they empowered her, just as much as they had empowered him.

She looked to him and found his amber eyes staring back, as unmoving and unfeeling as stone. She struggled not to flinch.

"Defend myself to _you_, you gutless excuse for a warrior?" he spat. "What sort of a leader are you?"

Bluestar sat motionless. She could not hear Tigerclaw's insults; they meant nothing. Instead she searched his eyes for something that might betray the brown tabby's feelings. She needed to find something, _anything_ that would show that Tigerclaw felt _something_ for her – warmth, sorrow, remorse, jealousy, hatred even. There was nothing.

"I would have brought back the days of TigerClan. _I_ would have made ThunderClan great!"

"And how many cats would have died for it?" she breathed wearily, feeling her energy drain away. Her eyes blinked back into focus as Tigerclaw hissed; her fur bristled at his statement. _Like your mentor would have? I thought you were different. I thought you had _learned_. Strength and blood do not rule here._

_And what does?_ nagged a thought in her head. _Love? Loyalty? Clearly not. What else is there?_

_There is no love, _she concluded, feeling her limbs go limp. She looked to Tigerclaw and his absent expression. _And now there is no loyalty. There is nothing, nothing at all. Only apathy._

"If you have nothing else to say," croaked Bluestar; she stared back at Tigerclaw, her expression finally matching his, "then I sentence you to exile."

_We have shared so much; one more thing cannot hurt. I need you to feel the loss that I do now. You feed off of your Clanmates' allegiance. How will you do away from them?_

_Exile: the only suitable punishment, for both of us. _


	8. Bloodshipping

**A/N**: Bone and Scourge, perhaps an even more baffling pairing than Bluestar and Tigerclaw, was (not so) surprisingly easier to write than the last chapter. Do I believe anything like what happened in this chapter ever really did happen? Not really – it could have, but I doubt it. But at least it's sort of reasonable. _Sort of_.

**Bloodshipping**

Bone x Scourge

BloodClan existed because of ambition and fear. There was no sense of familial ties or friendly bonds, no learning from Clanmates, and no sanctuary. Any protection there was against intruders was negated by the danger of living with murderous neighbors. And every cat in Twolegplace was murderous; when a cat could never fully trust _anyone_, not even his own family, a killer instinct was a requirement to survive.

_BloodClan has earned its name_, Bone thought, _we fight for everything. We have to._

The den he had found for himself was small and cramped, but livable. Bone extended his claws uneasily, feeling them scrape against the concrete beneath him. The ground was cold and rough, but it was also dry; it was all he could ask for now, as a steady rain fell from the sky, drowning the streets outside. A dull, throbbing pain pounded in his throat and he stifled a cough. The huge black-and-white tom narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. _How much longer until I can't fight anymore?_

He shoved the thought away, unwilling to confront that possibility. Sure, he was sick now, but he would get better. He would _always_ be strong. He lived to fight. He lived for _blood_.

_That's why I'm second-in-command_, the tom thought, satisfaction momentarily masking the agony of illness.

Soon, though, the ache in his throat returned and a cold wind blowing through his den left his eyes and nose streaming. Bone fluffed up his fur and let out a slow, wheezing breath. _I'm strong, but I've never been this sick before…_

The black-and-white cat knew he was on his own. He always had been, but he was now more than ever alone. Before BloodClan, other cats might have tried to bring food or water to a sick cat, but that would never happen now. Sick cats now were worse than dead cats: a dead cat was useless, as it could not fight; a sick cat could not fight either, but it _could_ spread its illness to others, weakening the Clan. In a way, sick cats were more dangerous than any intruder; you could kill or drive off a trespasser, but you could only try to hide from greencough.

_I guess I'm just lucky I haven't been killed_, Bone realized. He choked back another cough and felt a sharp shiver run down his spine. The BloodClan deputy had never been on this side of sickness; he had always been the one to chase off ill cats, or even kill them. It was a very different experience now, having to hide from the other cats instead of exerting his power over them. _How long before they find me? Scourge must know that I'm gone…_

He hissed as a trickle of water made its way into his den. The rainwater crept toward him, seemingly quickening its pace as he tried to slide away. His muscles ached with the effort of moving himself just a short distance away. Bone took a short, gasping breath as his legs collapsed beneath him and he fell onto his side. The freezing water seeped into his belly; it felt surprisingly good against his fever-wracked body.

_Is this it, then? _Bone closed his eyes. Just the thought of accepting defeat – his first, and final, defeat – ripped him apart from the inside out. Surrender was a show of weakness. _I'm _not _weak, but… what can I do now?_

He coughed again and retched at the taste of rotten, stale crowfood that erupted from his stomach. He had not had a decent meal in days, not since he had become too weak to search for food. The last thing he had eaten had been some old, discarded Twoleg food, left to rot in a back alley just outside the crevice he had squeezed himself into before collapsing in fatigue. He sniffed hopefully, but there was no such luck for him this time; he smelled only the clean scent of rain.

Bone struggled as his vision went out of focus. Stabbing pain, as sharp as claws, shot through his belly and he curled up painfully. _Sickness isn't killing me, hunger is._

Though his head fell abruptly to the ground, the black-and-white tom's ears twitched feebly. The steady beat of raindrops was disturbed; he could hear the sound of claws against concrete just outside. He struggled to raise his head.

"Scourge?" he breathed, just barely making out the figure of the small cat in front of him. His ears flattened and his eyes widened fearfully at the sight of the ruthless BloodClan leader.

The small black tom did not respond; it was not until a moment later that he realized Scourge's jaws were clamped shut around something. Bone drew in a laborious breath; the scent told him it was a rat, freshly killed.

Scourge did not move a muscle for several long moments, until finally he loosened his grip on the prey and let it fall to the ground with a small thud. He meowed, "This is for you. I want you to get better."

"What?" Bone choked. Scourge's voice had its familiar hard edge, despite his warm words. _What's he playing at? He's had me _kill_ sick cats before! He's risking his life just being around me now._

"You have helped me many times before," meowed the BloodClan leader, ignoring Bone's question. There was no emotion in his words, but Bone thought he could see an unfamiliar gleam in Scourge's blue eyes that betrayed his concern. "I believe you will again."

Bone watched wordlessly as Scourge turned around and left without waiting for a response. As the tip of the small tom's tail disappeared behind the curtain of rain, Bone squinted and looked down at the rat; its fur was ragged and muddy, but it was plump. He sniffed sharply, wanting to take in the scent of the prey that would save his life. A trace of Scourge's scent lingered on the rat and in the den. Bone blinked a few times, conflicted, before reaching out and setting a paw on the rat's corpse.

_What made him do it? Why am I so different from any other cat to Scourge, so much so that he would bother to find me? To hunt for me? _Bone narrowed his eyes. _He said I had helped him. It can't possibly be, but… Is this… about loyalty?_

"Thank you, Scourge," he whispered as he hooked his claws into the rodent's fur and pulled it close. He paused. "You have saved me."

_I will be loyal to you, Scourge. I will follow you and defend you, because you have defended me now, when no other cat would._

_Thank you._


	9. Blueberryshipping

**A/N**: Mm, not much to say. This shipping has grown on me, somewhat, even if I fail at writing it. I apologize if I get their characters wrong; as I've mentioned (several times), I'm less than familiar with the PoT characters and haven't a clue about OotS.

**Blueberryshipping**

Jaypaw x Heatherpaw

Heatherpaw stepped lightly across the bank of the stream between the ThunderClan and WindClan territories. She flicked her paws after each step, shaking loose the sand between her toes; she hated how coarse it felt compared to the lush grasses of the moor. Her neck was bent; her nose was close to the ground and her mouth was opened as she followed the tracks of a small rodent, trying to find its scent trail.

A sudden rustling from across the stream caught her attention. She instinctively took a few steps backwards, away from the border and farther into her own territory. Her tail brushed against some ferns; she started to slide back underneath them, then stopped. _It doesn't matter if they see me,_ she reminded herself. _I'm not trespassing._

Two cats stepped out from the undergrowth on the ThunderClan side of the border: a brown tabby and a smaller gray cat. Heatherpaw recognized them immediately as their Clan's medicine cats. As she watched, the pair of them walked along the forest edge for a short distance before splitting up; the brown tabby, Leafpool, continued on toward the lake, while the gray tom, Jaypaw, doubled back.

_They must be looking for herbs,_ Heatherpaw thought._ At least it's only Jaypaw left…_

Making sure she kept her pace reasonably brisk, to mask what she was really at the border for, she stretched her jaws open again and continued combing the shore, trying to scent any prey in the area. Her eyes were narrowed in frustration at how difficult she found it; she was used to hunting out the pungent scents of rabbits, not the weaker scents of mice, shrews, and voles. For a moment, she thought she could scent a squirrel, but she lost the trail a few steps later.

"I'd try farther upstream," meowed Jaypaw, from across the stream, breaking her concentration.

_How did he know I was hunting? _Heatherpaw looked up sharply. She lied, "Why? I'm just patrolling."

"Alone?" Jaypaw called back, skeptically.

Heatherpaw flattened her ears. "The rest of the patrol is coming."

"Hmph," mewed the medicine cat, rolling his eyes. "You might have a patrol with you, but don't try to deny that you're hunting."

"Hunting?" Heatherpaw purred, trying to mask the frustration she was feeling. _Mouse dung! ThunderClan isn't supposed to know about our hunting here yet! Onestar's going to have my tail off! _She blinked a few times, flustered. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Prey is still plentiful on our territory," Jaypaw meowed, unrelenting. "Is there something wrong with the rabbits on the moors."

"No," the pale brown tabby meowed instantly.

"Then why are you hunting ThunderClan prey?" Jaypaw challenged. Heatherpaw noticed that his tail tip was twitching impatiently.

"It's not ThunderClan prey!" Heatherpaw growled back, angry at his words. She lashed her tail once indignantly. "This is WindClan territory, in case you've forgotten."

"Suit yourself," Jaypaw meowed. He tilted his head to one side dismissively. "But you're not going to catch anything like _that_."

The brown tabby she-cat swallowed her growing hiss. _He challenges me on my own territory, then insults my hunting ability!_ He growled, "It's not like you could do any better, could you?"

She smirked, satisfied, as Jaypaw flinched at the jab, but when he hardened his sightless gaze so that it bored into her, she could not help but feel slightly ashamed. She let her hackles fall from where they had risen and took a few steps back. She remembered the first time she had met Jaypaw and how frustrated he had been then at the state his blindness had put him in. She also remembered how she had proven moons later, in saving his brother and her own Clanmate, that he was not as helpless as she had thought he was. _I let my anger get away with me. I shouldn't have said that._

"Look," she mewed, scuffling her paws, "I didn't mean…"

"Of course you did," Jaypaw spat. "But you forget that living on the moorland and living in the forest are completely different."

"I know," Heatherpaw mewed quickly, flattening her ears in stress. "I wasn't trying to…"

"On the moors, the fastest cat always wins," Jaypaw went on. His fur was now bristling. "You rely on seeing prey before it gets very far and then chasing it down."

"Yes," she interjected. "But…"

"In the forest," snapped the gray tom, "speed will only get you so far. You have to scent the prey or hear the prey before it ever senses you. If you don't stalk it, you'll never be able to reach it before it hides back in its den or in a tree."

Heatherpaw did not try to argue this time. She lowered her head slightly, shocked at how quickly Jaypaw's attitude had changed at just the indirect mention of his blindness. _But I'm not the one who has to deal with it every day. I can't even begin to imagine what it's like for him, having to listen to cats doubting him every moment of his life._

"I may be blind, but that doesn't mean I'm helpless," Jaypaw finished. He spat his last few words, "You might think less of me, but that doesn't mean I can't claw your fur off just as well as any warrior."

The brown tabby narrowed her blue eyes, studying the gray tom: his back was arched angrily and his tail had shot up aggressively, but beneath his hostile posture, his flanks were heaving unevenly. _He's not even sure of himself._

"Okay," she meowed, letting her fur lie flat.

"Okay?" Jaypaw growled. His back straightened out somewhat, and his eyes widened slightly, as though he could not believe what he was hearing.

"I believe you," Heatherpaw meowed, dipping her head. "I was wrong."

The gray tabby did not respond. His tail swept across the ground twice, until finally he fell still. Heatherpaw felt the air between them freeze with tension. She felt some of Jaypaw's emotions coming off of him: the taste of relief, paired with a nagging anxiety. Seeing his expression change from one of hostility to one of blank calm, she wondered if he was doing the same with hers.

The sound of pawsteps from farther downstream announced the return of Leafpool. She padded along the bank, her steps unsteady as the sand sank beneath her. As she reached her apprentice, she dropped a few stalks of a leafy green plant at her paws. The brown tabby medicine cat looked from her to Jaypaw, then back again. "Hello, Heatherpaw." She turned her attention back to her apprentice; Heatherpaw noticed that she had narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Have you found any watermint, Jaypaw?"

"No," Jaypaw meowed back, his voice oddly flat after the conversation she had just had with him. "There's none on this side of the stream that I could find. I was just asking Heatherpaw if she'd seen any on her side of the border."

Heatherpaw's whiskers twitched in surprise at the effortless lie. _He's not going to tell her that I was hunting?_

"There's none over here, as far as I can tell," she mewed, trying to keep her voice level.

"Thank you, Heatherpaw. We'll look elsewhere." Leafpool nodded to her, then bent down to pick up the herbs she had already gathered. As she turned to walk back into the forest, she ran her tail over Jaypaw's pelt, showing him the way. Heatherpaw thought she could see a flicker of frustration cross his face.

Jaypaw did not follow his mentor immediately, but instead waited on the bank until she was out of hearing range. He turned to Heatherpaw and mewed again, "Try farther upstream."

"Thanks," Heatherpaw mewed. She turned one ear back awkwardly. "I _am_ sorry about what I said."

"I know," Jaypaw mewed simply. He ducked his head to her. As he turned away to pad back into the forest, he meowed over his shoulder, "Good hunting."

"Good hunting," the she-cat echoed and watched as his gray tabby pelt disappeared into the shadows of the forest.


	10. Brothershipping

**A/N**: I had an idea for this immediately, surprisingly enough. Then my laptop's battery died. Blech. So this comes a little delayed, but at least it's here now, yes?

And let us hope this chapter actually gets posted. There were some troubles with the last few chapters, so…

Also, I really want to thank the people that had commented on this story thus far, either through message or review. It's really, really appreciated. That being said, reviews from everyone else (and I know other people are reading) would be extremely… awesome.

**Brothershipping**

Brambleclaw x Hawkfrost

Shafts of moonlight stabbed through the overhead branches and dappled the ground where Brambleclaw walked, head down, tail trailing through the fallen leaves. He hesitated in his step, and then came to a halt, closing his eyes and taking a deep, steadying breath. His entire body ached, not from the wounds that his own brother had inflicted on him, but from the effort of standing, dragging himself on, when he felt that he had lost sight of what he lived for.

_It seems wrong,_ he mused, _that I am having so much taken from me so soon after my greatest triumph. I want to be leader, I _should _be deputy now – but I didn't want _this_._

Memories of the evening, glimpses of what he had felt earlier flashed through his mind: his moment of fervent excitement when his brother had appeared, his strike of concern at the sound of a distress call, his sharp terror at the sight of his mangled leader, and his irrepressible anger that he had felt when it all finally came together. He wished he could forget everything that had just happened; he wished he could start time over again and relive the past few moons. There were so many things he would change.

Brambleclaw drew in another deep breath, though it did nothing to calm him. He could feel his body trembling; anxiety prickled at his fur with every heartbeat. The brown tabby looked down and flinched at what he saw: his paws were caked with blood. _His blood. What have I done?_

Unable to bring himself to clean his fur and paws, he tore his gaze up and away. Brambleclaw pushed his mind away from the bloody scene that the sight of his paws recalled. Instead he grasped at the more recent memory of being back in camp, among his Clanmates, with his leader above him, looking down with both fear and pride.

He, Firestar, Leafpool, and Squirrelflight had returned to the ThunderClan camp together. The Clan had been shocked at the sight of the near-defeated ginger tom, but had been further surprised by the announcement he had made just after.

"_Hawkfrost is dead," he meowed, clawing his way halfway up to the Highledge. From there he looked down on Brambleclaw; the brown tabby thought he could see sympathy in his gaze. "He trapped me, but Brambleclaw found us. He saved me."_

_The murmurs of his Clanmates, both shocked and suspicious, rattled in his ears. Their sharp looks pierced him from all sides; he knew they were waiting for him to speak._

"_Hawkfrost had planned murder," he meowed, the words nearly catching in his throat. His gaze dropped to his paws. "I had to kill him to save Firestar."_

_He expected the murmurs to continue, even to rise into protest, but instead they fell away into silence._

_A moment later, "Good job, Brambleclaw."_

_The brown tabby looked up to see several cats staring directly at him. As he watched, a few of his Clanmates gave him approving nods, while others just nodded sadly._

"_We left Hawkfrost where he fell," Firestar meowed, addressing the Clan again, "but he should be taken back to RiverClan soon."_

"_I'll take him." The swiftness with which the words left his mouth startled Brambleclaw, but he knew that he had to be the one to take Hawkfrost to his final resting place. The brown tabby felt he owed his brother at least that much, to return him to his own Clan; they would mourn him there and provide the ritual that would send his spirit off to wherever it was headed for eternity._

Soon after, he had left the camp, still battered and broken, but determined to do this one last favor for his kin. And this brought him to where he stood, frozen in place, so daunted by the prospect of seeing Hawkfrost's corpse again that he could not move.

_But I must_, he thought, shaking his head to clear it. _It must be done._

He hesitantly lifted one paw, then the other, and again – repeating the process until he was once again walking. It felt so wrong to have to think of the route he was taking so carefully, like the ground where he walked had upturned, leaving the forest in ruin. Even though nothing had been altered, Brambleclaw felt that everything had changed. He would never feel so trusting, so secure, again.

The stench of blood flooded his senses as he got closer to the lakeshore, but he did not allow himself to slow his pace. _I must face him, I must face him…_

The body of Hawkfrost laid where he had left him earlier, claws out and mouth snarling still. His sleek fur was damp, but the lake water that lapped at him still ran off of his pelt in thin streams. Brambleclaw remembered how his brother's blood had spilled into the lake before. He was thankful that most of it had washed away now, but he was dismayed to see that, where it must have washed over him, the water had stained his brother's fur red. He stomach turned at the sight, and he swallowed, steeling himself as he continued forward.

He reached down and snagged his teeth in Hawkfrost's scruff. He dragged the smaller tom backwards, then dropped him back onto the ground. The white-chested tom flopped onto his side; his legs splayed limply. Brambleclaw watched him, his face expressionless. Hawkfrost's hard blue eyes stared back at him in a perpetual glare. For a moment, Brambleclaw imagined what his brother would have said to him now, seeing him hunched over his body like this. _Kin over power, _he thought, _that's what he said. He'd say it again. He'd say that I'm weak._

The deputy knew, though, that his brother had left out an important part of his chain of loyalty. _Clan first…_

Brambleclaw had kin in nearly all of the Clans, but ThunderClan had always been his home. The cats of the woodland had always been more of a family to him than his own kin. ThunderClan would always be his source of strength and courage; its members would always be the cats he owed his allegiance to.

_But kin would always be important_, he reminded himself, considering Hawkfrost again. He reluctantly lowered his head and drank in his harsh scent. Despite the cat's pungent RiverClan scent, Brambleclaw was able to detect a warm, familiar scent beneath it – one that reminded him of himself.

_Clan first, _he affirmed, _then kin, then power. Always in that order._

He pressed his nose into his brother's fur. _I will mourn for you, Hawkfrost. I will sit vigil for you tonight. You were a bold, strong warrior. I wish you could have been my ally. I wish things could have been different._

As he raised his head and looked up to the night sky, where starry warriors seemed to flicker in loss and a cloud hid the moon's comforting light from view, he let out a soft sigh and closed his eyes. _Please don't forget him. Please guide him on so that he will walk again with his ancestors. Please…_

When he opened his eyes again, the stars were shining brighter. His breathing steadied, and his expression mellowed in calm as he realized that the light was a sign: _all will be well_.


	11. Bunnyshipping

**Bunnyshipping**

Dustpelt x Ferncloud

Dustpelt knew that he had a reputation for being prickly to every cat, Clanmate or otherwise. He also knew that there was one cat that was the exception to that rule: warmth flooded his body whenever Ferncloud was around him; as long as he had her, he was content.

His mate laid spread out beside him in a patch of sunlight. The damp, morning heat on his pelt felt nice; his eyelids were drooping drowsily.

"I hear Spiderleg fought very well against that fox the other day," Ferncloud mewed beside him.

Dustpelt tilted his head to the side and widened one eye to look at her: while he was limber and completely relaxed, his mate's ears were perked up attentively and she was looking back at him expectantly. He blinked with a long squint and meowed back, "I've heard that too. It's a shame that it bit Ashfur before it got chased away."

"Hm, Ashfur," Ferncloud murmured. Dustpelt raised his head slightly, wondering how the she-cat would react to a reminder of the significant injury to her brother. Finally, she mewed, "Who will train Birchpaw while he's being looked after?"

_No mention of your brother? _The brown tom twitched an ear in surprise. He replied, "Ashfur won't be out of it for long. Birchpaw's just doing patrols until he recovers."

"Oh," she meowed back. "Is he going on patrol later?"

"Yes," Dustpelt yawned, lowering his head again and stretching out his front legs. "I'm going out too. Firestar asked me to organize a hunting patrol." Shaking his head to wake himself, he added, "Would you like to come?"

"Oh," Ferncloud meowed again. When he looked at her, he expression was apologetic. "I promised Daisy I would help her with her kits today."

Dustpelt's whiskers twitched and a twinge of frustration bristled through his fur. He meowed calmly, "You've just finished nursing Birchpaw yourself. Surely you want to stretch your legs a bit out in the forest."

"A bit," Ferncloud mewed, looking thoughtful, but shaking her head, "but I did promise Daisy…"

"I'm sure Daisy can look after her kits for a while on her own," meowed the brown tom, feeling his patience wearing thin. "I'm sure if you asked her…"

"Maybe Birchpaw could go with you instead?" Ferncloud interrupted. Her eyes gleamed with their usual friendly glow, but, for once, Dustpelt did not find her look comforting. His tail lashed a few times side-to-side. Even if he had deep feelings for Ferncloud, he could not deny that she infuriated him sometimes.

"No, Birchpaw can't," he meowed, narrowing his eyes. "He's going on the sunhigh patrol to the ShadowClan border."

"Perhaps Spiderleg, then," she mewed back, folding her ears back uncomfortably. "There's no need to get so snappish."

Dustpelt struggled to hide his growing hiss, "Don't you ever think how ridiculous you sound?"

"What are you talking about?" Ferncloud meowed. That she looked stunned at his comment only angered him further.

"Every other word out of your mouth is about kits," he growled, unable to hide his annoyance any longer. "Your kits, Daisy's kits - it's like they're all you care about anymore."

"I care about you," Ferncloud mewed, her voice dangerously quiet; though her paws retracted defensively, her expression was firm.

"And what about ThunderClan?" he asked, his tone softening a bit at his mate's words; they both excited him and frustrated him. _And I care about _you – _but that's beyond the point!_ "When's the last time you've been on patrol? When's the last time you hunted for your Clan?"

"I help the Clan in other ways," Ferncloud meowed instantly, looking hurt. The softness in her voice hardened as she added, "I don't know how you can even suggest that I don't care."

Dustpelt's eyes widened for a heartbeat: for a short moment, he thought he could sense the courageous, determined cat he had fallen in love with so many moons ago. His heart ached as he realized that that cat had been missing had been there all along, hidden beneath some mask. _Why?_ Questions flew through his mind. _Why act like this, Ferncloud? Why are you trying to hide?_

"If you think I'm so useless," Ferncloud meowed again, "then just leave. Go on your patrol. I'll talk to you later when you're not acting like you've just been stung by a swarm of bees."

"Ferncloud, don't," he meowed as she tensed her muscles and got to her paws.

He lifted himself with one leg to try to draw even with her, but she was already halfway across the clearing before he could get up. He watched her as she stalked toward the nursery, her tail raised angrily and her fur standing on end. Before she disappeared beneath the brambles to join Daisy, she paused and looked back at him: she lashed her tail once, gave him a hard stare, then turned around and stepped inside.

The brown tom could only look on, stunned. _Good job, Dustpelt. Now you've upset her. How is that going to help anything?_

_I was only speaking the truth,_ he defended. _She has to have realized she's been… different lately. But, _he realized with a pang, _maybe she really does feel she has to be like this… for some reason. I shouldn't have snapped at her like that. It really _isn't_ going to help…_

Dustpelt stretched out his toes and gripped the sand beneath his paws, drawing it together, then flattening it out again. His eyes fell to his feet as he did this; he watched the earth move contemplatively.

"Hey, Firestar said you were taking out a hunting patrol?"

His ears twitched at the sound of another cat approaching; Dustpelt looked up to see Cloudtail walking up with Thornclaw right behind him. She struggled to find words. "Yes. You two want to come?"

"Yeah, I haven't been out all morning," Thornclaw yawned. To his side, Cloudtail tilted his head indifferently.

"I guess we should get going then," Dustpelt meowed. He snuck a glance back at the nursery; now that Ferncloud was gone, he felt inescapably lonely. He had not meant to get so angry and speak so harshly. _I just really miss you._ "We'll head to the old beech tree. There's always prey there."

"Yeah," Cloudtail agreed, following Dustpelt's lead as he padded toward the narrow exit into the forest.

With a deep breath, the brown tom kept his focus ahead of him as he slipped through the brambles and into the thick undergrowth of the forest. Thin rays of sunlight fought their way through the tree cover and dappled his pelt, but he did not feel them. All of his senses were focused on scenting for prey or danger and moving through the forest swiftly; he knew that as soon as he let his concentration waver, he would be too distracted by his runaway emotions to catch _anything_.

Thornclaw's startled mew behind him caught his attention. As he halted, turning his ears to hear what his Clanmate was talking about, he detected the sound of quick, approaching pawsteps; a quick sniff told him who was coming.

"Ferncloud!" he exclaimed as his mate pulled herself out of the last webbing of tangled bramble tendrils to stand beside him.

"Dustpelt," she mewed back. She blinked a few times, looking at him with an expression of deepest confliction: he could tell that she was still angry with him, but beneath that he thought he could see a bright gleam. Finally, she took a step forward, reached out, and out pressed her muzzle gently against his; Dustpelt felt a rush of heat flow through his body, getting his blood running fast, and a static that rippled through his fur, causing it to prickle with delight. When she pulled away, there was a playful glimmer in her eyes. She whispered to him, "I've missed hunting with you, too."

"So," Cloudtail meowed, his tail tip quivering, "are you coming with us?"

Dustpelt purred at the sight of the two younger warriors' confused looks: Cloudtail was blinking rapidly, while Thornclaw was looking from him to Ferncloud, seemingly looking for an answer as to what was going on. The brown tom realized that, had it been another warrior that had run to catch up to them, they would have not have been surprised, but, looking at his mate's eager expression, he found the situation to be nothing more than exciting.

"Of course," he purred warmly. "Ferncloud's been wanting to go out for ages."

At this, the two younger toms gave each other a furtive glance; both seemed to be trying to figure out if he and his mate were pulling on their tails. He purred again as Ferncloud pushed her way through them and kinked her tail, meowing, "What are we waiting for? We could have caught something already."

"Let's go then," Dustpelt meowed, pressing on after her. "It's this way."

As the patrol stalked farther into the forest, the undergrowth thinned, until it gave way to a grassy clearing. The brown tom quickened his pace; beside him he could feel Ferncloud matching him, step for step. As he slowed, she moved forward, drawing even with him, her pace equal to his. She looked to him: her eyes gleamed with their usual gentle warmth, but behind that, he could clearly see the ferocity he had once fallen in love with.

Happiness swelled up in his chest until he felt as though he could burst with pride. _You're back, I know it._

But, as he watched her, with her muscles rippling fluidly beneath her pelt and her feet pounding tirelessly against the ground, he amended, _No, you never left. You'll always be Ferncloud, the cat I love, no matter what happens…_

**A/N**: I don't know why so many people consider Ferncloud a "kit machine." She's only had three litters (with nearly half of her kits dying) and she's not exactly a young cat anymore. Perhaps we don't see her doing warrior duties very much, but, if I recall correctly, she went on patrol in Sunset, didn't she? I'm sure she's doing more than we're seeing. And even if not, well… that's just her way, then. I don't really care for her character, but I've no direct problem with her.

I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter, or about how it's my longest chapter yet. (…) Oh, and I really did have to put in a mention of Dustpelt looking like he was going to "burst with pride." That's like his signature move.


	12. Cascadeshipping

**A/N**: I had so many ideas for this chapter. I kept rewriting it over and over again. I'm not sure I fully like how this turned out, but… here it is. Enjoy.

**Cascadeshipping**

Mistyfoot x Silverstream

Mistyfoot's fur was slicked back with water as she walked along the bank on the ThunderClan side of the river. Water streamed from her sleek fur, running off in thick droplet trails, marking her path. Though she was extremely close to enemy territory, she felt no anxiety; her pawsteps and scent trail would fade soon, the droplet trail in the sand would dry, and she trusted the ThunderClan deputy, Fireheart, when he said that there would be no patrols from the rival Clan on this border at this time.

She had not traveled far when she stopped tentatively, looking around at the scenery before closing her pain-stricken eyes and lowering her head. The ground at her paws was hard and flat, saturated by the river and unremarkable compared to the earth around it, yet the blue-gray she-cat recognized the significance of the damp, gritty spot immediately. It was not the first time she had visited her friend's grave; she would always know where to find Silverstream's final resting place.

"It's been a while," she murmured, looking down at the sandy ground, "too long since I've seen you. I miss you so much."

Mistyfoot was not sure why she felt so compelled to come here again and again. She missed her friend very much; it had been hard coming to terms with the fact that she would no longer be able to talk to Silverstream every day and every night as she once had. She was also reminded of the silver tabby every day when she trained her daughter, Featherpaw. Both of these were very good reasons, as she often told herself, but she knew there was something else much stronger drawing her to this spot.

"The kits are doing well," she mewed conversationally, as though her friend was there, just beside her. "All of them, yours and mine. Featherpaw's becoming a wonderful fisher already. Dawnkit is about to become an apprentice. Reedkit and Graykit are still a bit young for that, but they're getting more energetic by the day. Mosspelt's helping me look after them when I go out to train Featherpaw, but they're almost too much for us both to handle now."

Mistyfoot let a purr rumble in her throat for a moment, but it quickly died off. She shifted her weight so that she leaned on one paw and then the other, trying to distract herself. She swallowed and went on, "Graystripe caught a huge fish the other day. You wouldn't believe he used to be a ThunderClan cat."

Though her voice was shaky, as she continued her report she felt a sense of calm seep into her, slowly overtaking her nervous body. Mistyfoot realized that she gained some peace of mind from just pretending to talk with Silverstream, but, in a harsh parallel, the more she talked, the more she came to terms with the loss, the more she realized that what she was doing was futile; she would never have her friend back. And so she found herself harking back to the same words, the same questions every time she visited. She could never decide what would be better for her: to struggle and put everything behind her, or to give into her compulsions and continue to come here to be torn apart by guilt.

"I told you before what would happen. Nothing good came of this," she accused, her voice wavering slightly. She blinked and flattened her ears, arguing with herself as she thought of Featherpaw and her brother, Stormpaw; she knew that her words were not completely true. She added, "I know you loved him, but… was it worth it? RiverClan lost you. Crookedstar lost you. _I _lost you." A shiver ran through her body and she whispered, "And now I can't tell you everything I ever wanted to. You're gone…"

This time, as her words dwindled away, she realized what kept her coming back here to this spot to try to reach out, to mourn: she did not know what had happened to Silverstream after her death. The uncertainty of the situation kept her nervous. She knew that the silver tabby should be in StarClan, hunting with their ancestors for an eternity, but, though she searched the skies every night, she could find no sign that Silverstream had made that final journey. _Will StarClan accept her, even after she broke the warrior code? Will they continue to guide her, even in death?_ Mistyfoot's fur fluffed up for a moment, then flattened in distress as she imagined her friend's spirit wandering, lost forever. If she could just know, without a doubt, that Silverstream was safe, that she was happy…

"I should have been there," Mistyfoot whispered, shaking her head slowly, sadly. "I shouldn't have let you go alone. I shouldn't have let you go at all. Mudfur could have saved you, and then… and then…" Her voice broke off and she fell silent. Her chest was heaving with the effort of staying upright, of keeping her breathing steady over the urge to start sobbing with distress. Finally, she lowered her head and reached a paw out, touching the ground where she felt Silverstream's face would be. "But it was always going to happen. You were meant to die that day." She paused and grief showed in her eyes. "And now, you're… not here."

_Please, I need to know just one thing. _She raised her head again and looked pleadingly at the sky; the clouds were still, shrouding the sun. _Just one question and I'll be fine. Please Silverstream, just let me know that you're okay, that you're safe. Can you even hear me? I need to know…_

The wind picked up as she finished, blowing from her own territory, across the river and into the forest behind her. Little waves, carried by the wind, lapped at the shore. Above them, a thin mist formed. Mistyfoot blinked and squinted, her mouth falling open slightly, as the mist crept up the shore, growing thicker and taller as it came closer, until finally she spotted a gleam of sharp green eyes from within it. She gasped, "Silverstream!"

Almost as soon as she had seen them, the green eyes swirled back into the shifting mist, which disappeared a moment later. Mistyfoot's claws extended as she tried to grasp onto the moment. Her own blue eyes searched the bank and the river frantically. Guilt and desperation prickled at her fur. Her breathing quickened. _I saw you, Silverstream! I did! I know you're here! Please… please don't go!_

A strange sensation crept across Mistyfoot's pelt, both eerily cold and searing hot at once, yet also distinctly tender. She crouched nervously, her eyes wide and fearful. _Silverstream?_

_Peace, Mistyfoot. I am still with you. _The blue-gray she-cat's ears shot up at the sound of her friend's voice. The flood of emotions that overcame her at the familiar pitch clawed at her heart. So much longing, so much desire, filled her that she ached to call out, but she found herself too shocked to speak, to even move. And then Silverstream's voice echoed in her mind again: _I have always listened to you. We have been friends from the time we were both very young. We are still friends. I still feel the bond we share, and I'm sure you do as well._

_Yes, _Mistyfoot thought. _I do feel it, even though you're so distant. Even though you're…_

_Dead? _Silverstream answered. _Friendship can last for more than one lifetime. We, as Clan cats, are blessed to be able to walk the skies for an eternity, waiting for the day that we are reunited with those we were closest to while we still walked the forest territories._

Mistyfoot's eyes dulled at her friend's words. _Until you can walk with Graystripe, that is…_

_No, _came the firm reply. Mistyfoot thought she could taste her friend's sadness on the air. _I love Graystripe, but I also love you. You are my closest friend, almost like a sister to me. _There was a pause._ It makes me both happy and sad to know that so many more moons will pass before we walk together again._

_Many moons? _Mistyfoot thought, awed. She realized that Silverstream would have seen her future. _What have you seen? What…_

_It is not my place to say. _Silverstream's voice was laced with a purr. _But understand that all that is meant to happen will happen, and I will walk with you each step of the way._

_Yes, _thought Mistyfoot. _Of course, but…_

_I must go now. _The flavor of sorrow penetrated her words now, clipping them off. More strongly, she added, _Walk confidently along the path StarClan has laid out for you and know that everything will be right. We will not lead you wrong… I promise._

Mistyfoot felt the air around her stir as Silverstream's spirit departed. She breathed in, then out, then in again and held her breath. She felt her guilt leaving her in waves. The sun above her felt hot again on her now-dry pelt. She closed her eyes, taking in its warmth, then exhaled. She took a single step forward, then another, and another, moving forward until the cold river water soaked her paws. As she slipped into the river and kicked out, she felt energy flowing into her and around her. She swam effortlessly.

_We walked together before. We walk together now. And one day, Silverstream, when I join you again, I will walk with you for an eternity. I… promise._


	13. OOO: Beautyshipping

**A/N**: Somehow Brightheart x Cloudtail wasn't on the list I was using, so… I missed it. But… this is one of my favorite pairings, so there was no way I was going to write through the other tons of shippings before getting to it. Brightheart and Cloudtail are just way too awesome for that. :D

Fireheart x Mistyfoot is actually Saunashipping, according to this list, so they'll be coming up… eventually. And… I don't think Pine is Pinestar, is he? I could be wrong. But, either way, I don't even really know about Pinestar, either. I know who he _is, _but I never read Bluestar's Prophecy, so I don't know what he's _like._

_Out of Order:_

**Beautyshipping**

Brightheart x Cloudtail

Brightheart's fur bristled anxiously as she watched the subtle, threatening, shifting movements of the lines of cats in front of her. Each one of the enemy cats she saw wore collars studded with sharp teeth, those of both dogs and cats, and bore more scars than most Clan cats. Those marks, along with the eager gleaming of their eyes, told the ginger-and-white she-cat that these cats were no strangers to fighting and bloodshed; they would kill without hesitation. The young warrior turned her head, so that she could see the rest of BloodClan with her one good eye. She shivered, but tensed her muscles a moment later, hiding her fright. She arched her back and lowered her head aggressively. She had promised to protect ThunderClan with her life, and that is what she would do, as she had always done.

The cat next to her crouched down also, pressing his flank against hers. She felt her racing heart slow a bit, calming slightly, as the tom pressed his muzzle against hers. He whispered, so that only she could hear, "I will fight with you. We'll beat them."

"I know," she breathed back, pressing closer to the white warrior. "And I will fight with you too, until we win the battle."

The tautness of the unevenly healed skin over where one of her eyes used to be was the only visible reminder of how close she had come to losing her life just moons earlier against the dog pack that had threatened ThunderClan. Even though her wounds had been healed and most of her scars had faded, her Clanmates still seemed to think less of her, as if they believed that she was less of a warrior because of her wounds. Fury and distress flowed through her veins every day as she realized that as she was half-blind, they were half-right: there was no doubt that her impaired sight was a disadvantage to her. But if her Clanmates believed that her muscles were less strong, her claws were less sharp, or her loyalty was less absolute, they were dead wrong.

But the white tom next to her, Cloudtail, had always been different and his words strengthened her. When others flinched away, he came closer. When others turned their backs on her, marking her as a lost cause, he patiently trained her, his dedication never wavering. He had never told her what she _could not_ do. And now he had not offered to fight _for _her, to protect her, to even watch her back. He told her that he would fight _with_ her, as an equal.

Suddenly, a sharp yowl from across the clearing caught her attention. She snapped her attention to Firestar and saw his raise his tail commandingly. Her leader yowled, "LionClan, attack!"

Brightheart leapt forward at once; beside her, Cloudtail matched her stride. All around them were cats from each of the four forest Clans, every cat making a mad dash toward BloodClan with ferocious expressions and claws extended. For a few seconds, both BloodClan and the forest cats were apart, only reaching for each others' throats. Cloudtail's voice rose, mid-sprint, into a challenging yowl; first Brightheart, then the rest of ThunderClan, added their own battle cries. And then the first warrior lit upon a BloodClan foe and the clearing descended into chaos.

Cloudtail lashed out as a wiry black she-cat came closer, flashing her reinforced claws as she slashed at the white warrior. She dove beneath his blows and struck upward, raking her claws across Cloudtail's shoulder. Quick as lightning, she twisted around and sank her teeth into the white tom's throat. She kept her hold for no longer than a heartbeat before Brightheart launched herself at the she-cat, wrapping her front legs around the BloodClan cat's neck and wrestling her away from her mate. She ducked out of the way of the she-cat's flailing claws and pulled her down onto the ground, scratching at her spine with her hind claws. The she-cat gave a furious hiss as Brightheart's claws dug into her flesh, pulling out clumps of fur. She struggled free of Brightheart's grip and fled the clearing, never looking back.

Spitting aggressively, the ginger-and-white she-cat spun around, looking for Cloudtail. She spotted him a moment later: he had a BloodClan tom pinned down and had buried his teeth into his shoulder; the tom was crying out in agony. When he released the wailing tom, he raised his head triumphantly. Brightheart opened her mouth to call out congratulations to him, then noticed a huge tabby tomcat running up behind him. She yowled, "Cloudtail, behind you!"

The white warrior spun around just in time to roll away as the tabby pounded his enormous paws down where Cloudtail's spine had been a moment before. Brightheart leapt forward, darting past the tabby and scoring her claws across his flank. He lashed his claws at her, but she was too quick. On the tabby's other side, Cloudtail had lunged forward and bit down on his hind leg. The tabby growled in frustration and kicked out, throwing the white tom off. He once again eyed Brightheart murderously.

_Remember what Cloudtail taught you_, she thought as he advanced on her. She noticed that he was trying to come upon her from her blind side; her ears perked forward, showing her excitement at the tabby's predictable move. She started ducking and weaving back and forth, making it impossible for him keep focused on her scarred face. Her eye gleamed as she noticed his whiskers pin back and his ears flatten. _A disoriented warrior is no better than a kit at fighting!_

Cloudtail picked himself up and darted around behind her, drawing the tabby's attention away from her. Brightheart paused for a brief moment, taking aim, then leapt forward, beneath the tabby's outstretched paws, and raked her own claws against his nose. The tabby recoiled, hissing, and spun around; he fled a moment later, his tail between his legs. Brightheart panted, trying to catch her breath as she glared at the fleeing tom. Coming up beside her, Cloudtail let out a victorious yowl. With a quick, shared glance, they nodded and ran back toward the pack of still fighting cats, knowing that the battle was not yet won.

Together, the pair of them fought off cat after cat, and yet BloodClan's ranks seemed only to grow, rather than thin. Brightheart cried out as a tortoiseshell latched onto her tail with her teeth; her cry grew into a hiss as she wrenched her tail out of the she-cat's grip. The tortoiseshell crouched to make another go at her, but Cloudtail grabbed her hind legs with his claws and dragged her away; she yelped in surprise and ran away when the white tom sank his teeth into her own tail.

"Nice!" Brightheart meowed, taking a moment to headbutt Cloudtail fondly. "You sure showed her!"

"Yeah," he meowed back, sweeping his plumed tail from side to side and tipping his chin up arrogantly.

Brightheart purred, but her amusement turned to dread as an ear-splitting yowl pierced through the caterwauls of the other cats. Spotting the familiar flame-colored pelt through the mass of fighting cats, she gasped, "Firestar, no!"

Her paws seemed to carry her effortlessly across the clearing. Behind her, she could hear a cat's pawsteps pounding the ground as Cloudtail followed her. She leaped between, beneath, over, and behind cat after cat, trying to reach her leader. The black tom, the leader of BloodClan, Scourge, was standing over Firestar. His frosty blue eyes gleamed dangerously; as Brightheart watched, he wiped his claws across the grass, cleaning them of Firestar's blood. The ginger tom lay splayed out on the ground, blood streaming from the grievous wound that had struck him down; he did not move.

"Murderer!" Cloudtail snarled, leaping the last few tail-lengths toward Scourge, passing Brightheart. His claws were stretched out as far as he could reach; no other emotion could match the hatred he felt for the BloodClan leader in that moment.

Scourge's ears flicked. Without even looking at him, he ducked beneath his outstretched claws and hooked his own into Cloudtail's flank as he passed over him. Before the white tom could retaliate, Scourge had flipped him over onto his back and pressed one paw to his chest; his long and sharp reinforced claws jabbed into his neck. The small black tom looked down at him, his eyes cold and emotionless. Scourge pressed his claws down harder.

"No!" Brightheart yowled.

Scourge looked up a moment too late. The ginger-and-white she-cat barreled into him, knocking him free of Cloudtail. She latched onto his fur with her claws and pummeled him with her hind paws as the pair of them rolled over and over in their struggle. She snapped at his paws with her teeth as he tried to reach her; she hissed, partially in anger and partially in satisfaction at the taste of Scourge's blood on her tongue.

A growl erupted from the BloodClan leader and he bolted upwards, kicking her away. Brightheart rolled with the force of his kick; before she could steady herself, he had tackled her himself, pinning her down and digging his claws into her side. He bent down and hissed into her ear, "You're fighting a battle that you cannot win! BloodClan will kill every cat in the forest to claim what is ours!"

She gasped in pain as he raised one paw and raked it across her ear, shredding the tip. As she kicked out against him feebly, he stabbed his claws into her flank and ripped open her flesh; a strange buzzing filled her head as she felt warm streams of blood leaving her body.

And then Scourge's weight was lifted from her. She looked up to see Scourge facing Cloudtail; both toms were standing nose to nose, their tails lashing and their backs arched.

"I won't let you hurt her!" Cloudtail hissed.

"She's going to die," Scourge spat back, "just like the rest of you forest fools! You can't beat me!"

The black tom leapt forward without warning and lit upon Cloudtail. Brightheart tried to lift herself up, tried to reach them, but fell back, weak and defeated. She could only watch helplessly as Cloudtail struggled free, only to be tackled again and again. The young tom snarled defiantly as Scourge sank his teeth into his scruff and dug his claws into his shoulder.

"No… no…" she meowed, choking out the words. "Keep fighting! Don't give up!" Cloudtail turned to her, still snarling, and Brightheart saw fear in his eyes. She blinked slowly and struggled to meow one more word, "Remember…"

The white tom fell silent as memory and emotion crossed his mind. _Yes, Brightheart. I remember what I taught you, and what you taught me. Never stop fighting. Never give up hope…_

Wrenching his scruff free of Scourge's grip, he chomped down on the BloodClan leader's front leg; even though Scourge bit down on him again and pressed him into the ground with bone-crushing pressure, he did not, and could not, let go.

Brightheart blinked again. Her vision was shifting in and out of focus as she grew weaker and weaker from blood loss. And yet she felt an inexplicable sense of relief; somehow she knew that everything would be okay. If Cloudtail could wound Scourge, if _she_ could wound Scourge, then the battle could be won. _Never give up…_

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the ginger flank of Firestar begin to heave again just before her vision turned to black.


	14. Celestialshipping

**A/N**: To address Aroeheart's questions: "Shipping" is short for "Relationshipping" – usually referring to a relation or pairing in the romantic sense. I've strayed somewhat away from that in many of my chapters, though. I just needed a list of topics to tackle to give myself something to do for a while and the Warriors Wish fansite's list of "shippings" gave me that. And… since Brightheart is, to the best of my knowledge, still alive in Omen of the Stars, it's just her blacking out. I like to imagine that little Fernpaw battled her way over and dragged her away and out of danger, over to Cinderpelt. (:

Oh, and I had to have rewritten this chapter at least fourteen times. Every time I decided on a certain scene I was going to take on and started writing it, I got about halfway through the tale and decided it was either too cheesy or too unrealistic/uncharacteristic for Fireheart/Silverstream/both of them. This chapter, though, I feel is… reasonable.

**Celestialshipping**

Fireheart x Silverstream

Silverstream curled the tip of her tail up as it quivered. Her small, slender silver body looked out of place compared to the stocky, light brown tabby tom walking next to her. Turning to look at him, she meowed, her words careful and deliberate, "Are we certain he will come tonight, father? Perhaps he will need to rest another night after… such a stressful time."

"Perhaps he _needs_ to, but he cannot _afford_ to," the brown tabby growled in return. "If Fireheart is to be a leader, he must recognize that his own needs will not always come first."

Silverstream flicked an ear. "Could that not be said of every warrior?"

"It could," Crookedstar meowed fairly. "But the actions of a leader will always affect his Clan more than the actions of any one warrior ever could."

The silver tabby narrowed her eyes thoughtfully, but did not respond.

Soon, the flattened reeds beneath them, worn down by the paws of countless cats, thinned and gave way to grassland. Silverstream glanced around wonderingly as they continued on. All around them, flickers of movement and flashes of different colored pelts caught her attention. None, though, seemed to be traveling in the direction she and her father were traveling. The other cats' scents were strong, but fleeting, fading away almost instantly as Silverstream passed where the other cats had walked.

Her whiskers twitched as, finally, a thick, layered scent, drifted toward her from ahead, blowing in on the headwind. Though ThunderClan's territorial scent was the most pungent, the smells of the other three Clans were also present. She could just begin to spot the four great oaks of Fourtrees when the grass opened to a flat, open patch of ground where many cats, their paled fur shining with cold fire, rested.

"Welcome," meowed a reddish-brown tom as she and Crookedstar joined the group. The tom dipped his head to her father before turning to look at her. "I was not expecting to see you here. Not after Fireheart tried to stop…"

Silverstream's green eyes gleamed defensively and she lashed her tail once.Her words seemed forced as she meowed diplomatically, "I have an interest in any cat that is bound to lead his Clan, just like you, Oakheart, and just like every other cat here."

Oakheart narrowed his eyes. "I see."

A loud yowl from a gray cat with WindClan scent blocked Silverstream's response and silenced every other cat. The silver tabby shot the reddish-brown tom another angry look before shifting into position. The gathered cats all stood and moved into a large circle, sitting shoulder to shoulder. Though she did not recognize every cat, across from her, Silverstream saw several familiar faces: most notably was Bluestar, at the center of a group of ThunderClan warriors she remembered seeing while on patrol.

As Silverstream watched, a yellow tabby stepped out from behind Bluestar and, nodding thanks to the gray WindClan cat, meowed loudly, "The time has come for a new leader to rise." The tabby paused and looked to Bluestar. "Is Fireheart the cat you have decided should succeed you?"

"Yes, Sunstar," meowed the blue-gray cat. "Fireheart is a fine, loyal cat. With the support of StarClan, I know he will become a great leader."

Sunstar lowered his head, showing his acceptance. Several other cats, mostly ThunderClan murmured their agreement, but from another part of the circle, the gray WindClan she-cat meowed, "But will all of StarClan accept him when he was once…?"

Though the gray she-cat's words trailed off before she finished, it could not have been clearer to the other cats what she had meant. A low, growling mumble rose from many cats and Silverstream saw both raised hackles and flattened ears in equal measure. Her claws unsheathed and scratched the ground as she felt her own fur rise uneasily at the tension in the clearing.

"Fireheart has proved himself to his Clanmates – and to us – more than most other cats," Sunstar meowed to the gray she-cat. "To imply that the past he gave up when he was little more than a kit makes him less of a warrior today is narrow-minded, Heatherstar."

Silverstream's fur flattened again as she realized that most cats seemed agreeable with Sunstar's response. She sheathed her claws and relaxed her muscles. Though she had not always seen eye to eye with the flame-colored tom, she had never seen him as anything but a warrior. She and Fireheart had both been young when they had first met but, even then, she had recognized the courage, careful honesty, and determination that would come to define him. Fireheart had always had a very clear sense of right and wrong. _Even if he was often a pain, _Silverstream thought with a half-irritated, half-amused sniff, _I have to give him that._

"Fireheart has been good to his Clan, I am sure," meowed a ragged black tom. Silverstream looked over to see Nightstar among a few other ShadowClan cats. "And we should not forget that he has been good to the other Clans as well."

Silverstream's ears twitched as, beside her, Crookedstar meowed, "Was it not Fireheart that helped to drive Brokenstar out of ShadowClan, freeing them from his deadly reign?"

Nightstar nodded slowly as Bluestar stepped forward. The she-cat's hard blue gaze bore into Crookedstar's as she meowed, "And I do recall he once offered to hunt for RiverClan when they were starving for prey." Her eyes gleamed dangerously when Crookedstar flattened his ears. "RiverClan might not have survived those floods without that help."

"And Fireheart was one of the cats who brought WindClan home," Nightstar meowed, glancing nervously over at the WindClan cats. It had been his own Clan, under Brokenstar's leadership, that had chased them out of their own territory. The black tom seemed unsure that he had been forgiven, but when the WindClan cats looked back at him, there was no resentment in their eyes; Heatherstar only nodded curtly to him.

"One might consider his regard for the welfare of rival Clans to be… unusual," meowed a light brown tabby tom beside Heatherstar. "His willingness to disregard the warrior code for the sake of enemy Clans could be seen as foolishness."

"Or it could be that Fireheart possesses a rare level of compassion," Bluestar meowed, her blue eyes flashing a warning. "Fireheart has always had the wellbeing of _every _cat in mind. That should be seen as a strength, not a weakness, Reedfeather."

The brown tabby, Reedfeather, lowered his head angrily, but did not argue.

"Is it decided then?" meowed Sunstar, addressing every cat. "Does Fireheart have the approval of StarClan as the next leader of ThunderClan?"

Most cats meowed their approval, some nodding slowly, others raising their voices enthusiastically. Silverstream noted that there were a few cats, scattered among three of the Clans, that stayed silent; the only Clan where every cat was yowling their approval was ThunderClan. The silver tabby bristled indignantly, wondering how those silent cats could be so shortsighted. _Perhaps they believe that their Clan is better than the others in some way, _she thought, her eyes burning like green fire.

In her relationship with Graystripe, Silverstream had come to realize that the "other" Clans were really not so different from her own; the same rituals, traditions, and values she had grown up with were practiced in other Clans just the same. In a similar manner, she had also come to see the necessity of having four Clans. One Clan alone would not be a _Clan_ anymore if it did not have borders or rivalries; it would be nothing more than a group of cats, vulnerable to outsiders with no potential allies, struggling to survive. Silverstream knew that Fireheart, as a cat without any inborn prejudices against rival Clans, would be much more apt to realize this necessary connection between the Clans; this forethought and rare way of thinking would distinguish him as a cat worthy of such a significant place in the forest. She nodded, mostly to herself, and raised her voice, calling out her approval.

"Very well," meowed Sunstar, his gaze sweeping over the crowd of cats. "Nine cats will need to give Fireheart his new lives."

"I will," meowed Bluestar, dipping her head respectfully to Sunstar as she stepped in front of him. "He was my apprentice, as well as my deputy. I know he has looked to me for guidance before, and I know he will be looking for it now."

Sunstar nodded and another cat, a large golden tom, came forward. "I was also a mentor to young Fireheart. I will give him a second life."

"And I will give him a third, Lionheart," meowed a smaller, patched tom with a ginger tail as he stalked up beside the golden tom.

"He has never met you, Redtail," meowed Lionheart, surprise mingling with respect in his voice.

"But he has brought justice to Tigerstar for my death," meowed the tortoiseshell solemnly, ducking his head. "It is the least I can do to give him a life in return."

"I will give him a life, as well," growled a lean light brown tabby. A dark, pained look came over the tom's face as he meowed, "He will need strength and energy to battle that piece of fox dung, Tigerstar."

"Peace, Runningwind," mewed Spottedleaf as she came up beside the brown tabby, resting her tail on his shoulder. Runningwind's eyes burned for a moment longer, then he looked down to his paws. "The time will come for Fireheart to confront Tigerstar and avenge your death, and the deaths and injuries that he has caused to so many others." She paused – and Silverstream thought she could see a glimmer of worry – then added, "I will give him a life, as well. I hope that when the time does come for him to face Tigerstar, he will be ready."

"Yes," meowed a dappled gray tabby she-cat, her green eyes glowing with a sad, painful memory. "But right now, it is most important for Fireheart to have the power to defend his own Clan instead of looking for a battle." She looked to her paws briefly, then looked up again, her gaze more fierce. "I will give him a life. If he is to be the guardian that ThunderClan needs, he will need our protection as well."

Many cats mewed their agreement with Brindleface's words, while one black-and-white tom, smaller than the rest, clenched his teeth and closed his eyes, as though trying to ward off a nightmare. When he opened them halfway, Silverstream spotted a flash of terror in their amber depths before he squeezed them shut again. The tom meowed softly, so that Silverstream could just barely hear him, "I will give Fireheart a life."

"Swiftpaw?" mewed Bluestar, her ears flattened sideways. Guilt flickered in her eyes. "Are you sure?"

The black-and-white tom nodded slowly, his eyes still closed for a few moments longer. Finally, when he opened them, he turned to Bluestar and nodded, as both an answer and an assurance. Silverstream looked on as the blue-gray she-cat noticeably relaxed.

"I will also give a life to Fireheart," meowed a thick-furred gray she-cat. Silverstream noticed several ShadowClan cats looking at Yellowfang, some bowing their heads and others only staring with interest. "Fireheart was a friend to me when I needed it most, he showed me compassion when no other cat would, and he was… more of a son to me than… any other cat." She broke off, uncharacteristically emotional. Silverstream's tail twitched. She did not think she had ever seen Yellowfang so bothered by anything before. When the medicine cat started again, a wise, joking gleam glowed in her yellow eyes, "Fireheart is a good cat, but he sometimes lacks common sense. I hope that with a little of me in him, he might be able to fix that."

Several cats purred good-humoredly. Silverstream's own tail curled up with amusement. A moment later, though, a serious hush fell over every cat again, as each looked to the others as they realized that their job was not yet done.

"That is eight lives so far," meowed Sunstar, looking back at the cats who had already volunteered.

Silverstream's ears twitched as she realized that all eight cats were of ThunderClan. She supposed it made sense, as Fireheart would have been most familiar with cats from his own Clan; in the same way, cats from his own Clan would be most familiar with Fireheart and more willing to give such power to him. At the same time, though, she remembered that Fireheart had not been with ThunderClan as long as some other cats, and the number cats he had influenced or been influenced by might not be as high as that of a different cat. Perhaps he really only did have eight cats from his own Clan that cared about him in such a way to give him a life.

_But what about cats from other Clans? _A nagging question swam through Silverstream's thoughts. _Surely Fireheart, out of all cats, would have ties to others after everything he has done…_

A sudden thought pricked her. _What about me?_

"Surely there must be someone else…?" Sunstar looked questioningly at each silent ThunderClan warrior. Silverstream looked from cat to cat, almost willing one of them to step forward.

_Fireheart was the first cat to find out about my relationship with Graystripe. He was the first to tell us that what we were doing was against the warrior code. He even tried to talk _me_ out of it when Graystripe wouldn't listen! But he knew how much we loved each other and he knew we meant no harm to either of our Clans. He decided that it was not his place to expose us. He had wisdom enough to realize that doing so would only cause pain for everyone – for his Clan, for my Clan, and even more for both Graystripe and I. How many other cats would have made that decision, and taken on that burden in the way that he did?_

_Not only that, but when my Clan was starving for prey, I didn't even hesitate to tell Fireheart. Somehow, _somehow _I _knew_ that he wouldn't take advantage of it. He wouldn't challenge us and he wouldn't try to exploit our weakness. Fireheart has always been very direct with me, very honest, but he has shown me more kindness than I could ever have expected a cat from a rival Clan to._

_Maybe now I can begin to show some of that kindness back…_

"I will give Fireheart a life," Silverstream meowed suddenly. She got to her paws and stepped forward, ignoring the shocked hisses from her father and uncle. She could feel several pairs of eyes staring at her and could almost taste the running emotions clouding the air – some only surprised, others confused, and yet others openly hostile to the RiverClan cat who had dared to step forward into what seemed like a ThunderClan ritual.

"You?" meowed Runningwind; one darkly tipped ear folded back uneasily as he stared quizzically at her. Brindleface narrowed her eyes thoughtfully, but her expression was neither approving nor hostile. Instead she looked curious.

"You were Graystripe's mate, not Fireheart's," Bluestar interjected, silencing Brindleface with a flick of her tail. Silverstream bristled at the coldness of her voice. "Surely you were not…"

"Not what, exactly?" Silverstream hissed, fluffing her dark tabby tail up and lashing it from side to side. "I _know _that I knew Fireheart better than many of your own Clan."

"But you never cared about him. He was always a thorn in your beautiful world of roses," growled Yellowfang, her voice gruff as she stared challengingly at the silver tabby. "What have you to say to him now?"

Silverstream stared defiantly back, struggling not to flinch under the orange glare. Questions flitted up in her mind again: _Am I… reading too much into this? Will Fireheart even _want_ to see me? _She steeled herself. _No, I cannot doubt myself. I _know_ Fireheart cared – about Graystripe and, in some way, about _me_. Even if I was too blinded to realize it before…_

"If I could speak to Fireheart," Silverstream meowed calmly, "I would tell him that I understand now… and I would thank him." She dropped her gaze and lowered her head. "I _do_ care about Fireheart, even if we were never friends."

When the silver tabby looked up, she could see Bluestar's blue eyes boring into her. The leader mewed, "And why do you want to give him a life?"

"I believe that giving Fireheart a life will be a beginning," Silverstream meowed, her voice quavering slightly. "Perhaps he will begin to… forgive me."

As the slender silver tabby looked around, she could still see some cats staring derisively back at her, and even heard one snort skeptically. But there were far fewer cats opposing her than before. Instead, the clearing was muffled, near silent, as Sunstar stepped forward to meet her. The yellow tabby looked down at her, unblinking, as Silverstream stared up into his bright green eyes, a hard look coming across her face, as though she was daring him to tell her to stand down.

Instead, Sunstar dipped his head to her. "You are nine." He raised his head and called out to the gathered cats, "When Fireheart comes tonight, he will be granted his nine lives. He will be hailed as the new leader of ThunderClan."

A chorus of chanting rose from the cats, starting soft and growing into a roar. Some cats yowled their support for the Clan – "ThunderClan! ThunderClan!" – while most others instead showed their approval for the new leader – "Fireheart! Fireheart!" Silverstream watched them for a moment, then looked back at her father, Crookedstar. The light brown tabby was staring back at her, his expression vague. As she watched, he gave her a curt nod, then raised his voice to join the others.

_I'm doing the right thing_, Silverstream thought. _Fireheart will be a great leader…_

"Fireheart! Fireheart!" meowed the silver tabby, her voice rising until it was among the loudest of the cats.


	15. Charredshipping

**A/N**: I can't believe this was one of the easiest chapters to come up with something for. (…) Brightheart/Cloudtail was somehow harder to plan than _this_. Oh, well. I'm somewhat pleased with this chapter, all the same.

Oh, and I kept writing "Ashfur" instead of "Ashpaw" – and I hope I didn't miss any of those while editing.

**Charredshipping**

Ashpaw x Firestar

A lithe gray tom glided across the forest floor, his paws hardly making a sound as they stepped lightly on the leaf litter. His blue eyes were focused on a mouse just a few foxlengths ahead of him as he skillfully moved forward. He walked with his belly close to the ground and his tail straight out behind him; he would be completely still, if not for his steadily moving paws. Gradually, the tom made his way closer and closer to the unsuspecting mouse. He grew still, the muscles in his hind legs tensing, before he leapt, claws extended. The tom's paws pounded down on either side of the mouse's body and his eyes gleamed triumphantly. He snagged his claws into the mouse's fur as it tried to run and pinned it down, lunging down and fastening his teeth into its neck. He grunted with satisfaction as he felt its tiny spine snap between his jaws.

The gray tom puffed his fur out proudly, darker speckles of fur rippling through his pelt over his lean body. He raised his head, the mouse still in his firm grip, and looked around. His ears twitched and twisted to his right as a rustling sound caught his attention. He turned to see a pale tabby figure emerging from the ferns. Soon after, another cat, a gray speckled she-cat, appeared behind him; her jaws were clamped shut around the body of a fat crow, but her eyes shone with excitement.

"Ashpaw," meowed the sharp-looking tabby, eying the apprentice's mouse with interest. "We're heading back to camp now."

Ashpaw ducked his head respectfully to the warrior and dropped his mouse. "Yes, Longtail." He flicked his tail in a direction that lead deeper into the woods. "I have some more prey stashed in that direction. I don't think I can carry it all."

The tabby nodded. "I saw you bury it. I'll fetch it for you. You and Fernpaw should get back to camp."

The gray spotted tom lowered his head again to Longtail, then reached further and grasped the limp body of his mouse again. As the tabby stalked off deeper into the forest, Ashpaw kinked his tail and looked at his sister. Fernpaw's tail tip was quivering madly and her whole body seemed to be shaking with anticipation. Even as he jerked his head encouragingly and set off toward the ThunderClan camp, Ashpaw could not help but to be amused at and to share in her enthusiasm. It was a very special day for both of them: the day they became warriors!

A brown tom greeted them as they picked their way down the ravine into camp. Ashpaw bowed his head as the tom mewed, "Welcome back. I trust the hunting went well?"

Ashpaw was about to drop his mouse to answer, but froze when he looked up and saw his mentor looking at Fernpaw expectantly. He felt a few pieces of sand fly across his paws as his sister loosened her grip on her crow, letting it flop down on the ground, and mewed excitedly, "Yes, Dustpelt! It went _very_ well!"

The gray speckled tom flattened his ears. He dropped his head and sat his prey down softly. He mewed, "Longtail is fetching the rest of my prey. He'll be back soon."

"You couldn't carry it all yourself?" Dustpelt meowed.

Ashpaw's eyes glowed at his mentor's apparent praise, but when he looked to Dustpelt's face, he only saw confusion there, instead of the pride he was hoping to see. Disappointed, he answered, "I'm sure I could have… but Longtail told us to get back to camp immediately."

"I see," meowed his mentor, flicking his tail dismissively. His head turned sharply and he added, "Speaking of Longtail…"

The lanky, pale tabby was prowling down the ravine into camp. Tucked away neatly between his jaws were two more mice and a plump vole. When Longtail dropped them next to the mouse already at Ashpaw's feet, the gray tom noted the clean bite and puncture marks on the creatures' necks; it was clear that the apprentice had killed the prey cleanly and skillfully. Longtail glanced at the prey briefly, then looked over at Dustpelt and meowed, "They both caught a fair amount of prey." Looking around, he added, "Where's Firestar?"

"Right here," meowed a ginger tom as he emerged from beneath the Highrock. The tom's ears twitched, as though he had heard Longtail's question quite clearly. Coming up to the group of them, he meowed, "So, these two are just back from their assessments? How did they do?"

Ashpaw watched Firestar wonderingly. He had always been in awe of the ginger tom – of his skill and cleverness in battle, of his authoritative presence, and of his rare connection with StarClan that Ashpaw did not believe even their Clan's medicine cat had.

"Ashpaw caught quite a bit of prey," Longtail meowed, nudging the short pile with one paw, "and I watched Fernpaw take down her crow. The bird was strong. It took a great deal of skill to bring something like that down."

Dustpelt's gaze was warm and congratulatory as he looked over at Fernpaw. The gray speckled tom turned one ear back and looked away. He was hoping that Longtail would have described one of his catches to Firestar. Flicking that ear and twisting it back up, he decided that the tabby had probably just not witnessed him catch any prey; whether that was true or not, he also decided not to consider. He also supposed that Dustpelt really could not have said anything, since he had been in the camp the whole time. He forced himself not to be disappointed.

"So am I correct in saying that these two are ready to become warriors?" Firestar meowed. Ashpaw attention snapped back and he raised his head. Beside him, the shift of Fernpaw's weight and feet told him that she had done the same.

Longtail glanced at Dustpelt. The brown tom meowed, "Yes, we believe so."

Fernpaw let out a squeal of excitement. Ashpaw perked up as well, but was still somewhat subdued. He flattened his ears and turned away sharply as Dustpelt stepped forward and touched noses with Fernpaw in congratulations. He closed his blue eyes, for a moment loathing Fernpaw. He had _always_ been second best, just behind her. Though Dustpelt had been _his_ mentor, the brown tom was always doting on his sister instead of him. In fact, he could not even remember the last time Dustpelt had praised him for his own efforts; if his mentor ever did congratulate him for anything, it was usually something that he and his sister had done together. And even since he and Fernpaw were kitted, Ashpaw knew that his sister had always been the favorite of Brindleface, their mother. Brindleface was always going on about how she was such a cute kitten – and this baffled Ashpaw more than anything else, as he usually thought of him and his sister looking very much alike, if not completely identical as kits.

The gray speckled tom looked up again and saw Firestar watching him through narrowed eyes. The ginger tom meowed, "It's nearly sunset. We'll hold the ceremony then." When the pairs of mentors and apprentices started to move away, the leader meowed, "Ashpaw, wait just a moment. I want to speak to you in my den."

"Yes, Firestar," Ashpaw meowed. He pulled away from his annoyance and followed his leader to the Highrock. The ginger tom beckoned for him to enter first, then slid in just behind him.

The apprentice's eyes opened wide at the sight of Firestar's den. Though there was really nothing remarkable about the stone walls or the mossy bedding, Ashpaw still felt a pulse of excitement tingling his paws as he looked around; just the idea of being in the _leader's_ den exhilarated him.

"Ashpaw," Firestar meowed, stepping over to his den and laying down on the layered moss. "I can see that you are troubled."

"What?" Ashpaw meowed, trying to look surprised. "I'm not troubled…"

"I've seen the way you look at Fernpaw," the leader meowed, curling his tail up beside his body.

"I don't hate her," the apprentice meowed quickly. He was not lying. As much as he wished that he could hate his sister, he knew that it would not be fair to her. It was not _Fernpaw's_ fault that the others acted the way they did. It was not her fault that she was somehow so _likable_ and he was… not.

"No, perhaps not, but you are jealous," Firestar meowed, staring at Ashpaw challengingly.

The gray tom flattened his ears to his head and averted his gaze, but did not say anything. His previous excitement at being invited into the leader's den had all but disappeared. All he could think of now was how uncomfortable it was to have Firestar, the cat he looked up to the most, talking to him about his personal problems with his Clanmates.

"I think you misunderstand the others," Firestar meowed when the gray tom had been silent for a while. "They do care very much about you, you know."

Ashpaw resisted the urge to spit angrily. Instead, he unsheathed his claws and stabbed the ground. He meowed tersely, "I don't see how sometimes. Dustpelt pays more attention to Fernpaw than he does to me."

"Dustpelt," Firestar meowed, his whiskers twitching with amusement, "probably finds Fernpaw a little… distracting."

"Distracting?" Ashpaw questioned with a growl. "How?"

Firestar seemed to struggle with himself, apparently trying to either not give too much away or be too careless with his wording. "When Darkstripe was exiled, Dustpelt offered to take Fernpaw on as a second apprentice. I knew, though, that he would not have been a harsh enough mentor for her. He would have found it hard to punish her, having to deal with how he felt about her."

"Oh," Ashpaw meowed, his eyes widening slightly with surprise. Was Firestar telling him that his _mentor_ had fallen in love with his _sister_? He pondered that thought for a moment. It did seem to make sense, given how Dustpelt had been acting, and yet he could not reconcile the picture of a lovey-dovey couple in his mind with that of his stern mentor. "That's… weird."

The ginger tom seemed somehow relieved that Ashpaw had understood him. "Yes, isn't it odd what falling in love can do to a cat?"

"I guess," Ashpaw meowed. He still was not sure how he felt about Dustpelt falling for his _sister_. "But still…"

"I know Dustpelt was a good mentor for you," Firestar interrupted, "because you've learned your hunting and fighting skills well. You did extremely well on your assessment today."

"Really?" Ashpaw meowed, his ears perking up. "You really think so?"

"Yes, of course," Firestar meowed. He pushed himself up with his front legs so that he was sitting even with the apprentice. "You have proven your bravery and your devotion to your Clan many times over – in your run to lure the dogs away from camp, in every border skirmish, and in every piece of prey brought back to feed the queens and elders. Even if you don't see it now, the Clan as a whole has come to appreciate you as a strong, reliable warrior – a cat we can _all_ count on."

Ashpaw found himself sitting a little straighter. Hearing such honoring words coming from his Clan leader – and about _him_, no less – was so unexpected, but, in some ways, just what the apprentice needed to hear. Now, all of the struggles he had faced during his apprenticeship seemed somehow worth it. "You _can_ count on me."

"I know," Firestar meowed, dipping his head to Ashpaw. The gesture surprised the apprentice more than anything thus far. "You have earned my trust, just as you have earned the trust and respect of all the Clan. You have become a warrior we can all – Dustpelt included – be proud of."

Trust. Respect. Pride. Ashpaw considered the reality of becoming a warrior. He would have many more responsibilities now, but it was also a great honor to be accepted as a warrior. It showed just how much faith a cat's Clanmates had in him. Ashpaw meowed carefully, "Thank you, Firestar." He ducked his head respectfully to his leader and added, "May I go prepare for the ceremony now?"

"Of course," Firestar meowed, his eyes gleaming. "I'm sure you've been looking forward to this day for a long time."

"Oh, yes," Ashpaw meowed, starting to turn away, "since I was kitted!"

Firestar purred, "Well, thankfully you won't have to wait much longer."

The apprentice nodded his farewell, then slipped through the lichen that hung down over the entrance to Firestar's den. As he bounded across the clearing, determined to find _someone_ to tell the news, he finally felt… complete. Firestar had provided him with the assurance he needed most at the time. He realized that the ginger tom's compassion was one of his qualities that made him a good leader. Firestar had recognized Ashpaw's needs, to be sure, but he had also recognized Dustpelt's complicated feelings far before Ashpaw ever did. The gray speckled tom hoped that, one day, he could as knowing as Firestar. He admired the ginger tom more than any other cat in the entire forest; he always had.


	16. Cherithshipping

**A/N**: All right! My third semester of college is almost over now, so I should start having time to write again soon. xD I'll start with this: something I've been working to get just right for a long time now. I'm not sure if I managed to in this version, but it's the closest I'm going to get, so… enjoy.

**Cherithshipping**

Sorreltail x Brambleclaw

"Hawkfrost is dead. He trapped me, but Brambleclaw found us. He saved me."

All around Sorreltail, cats stared, wide-eyed, up at the Highledge, where their leader stood, bloodied and defeated. It was a shocking sight and an even more shocking thought, seeing Firestar in such a state; the idea of ThunderClan without its great leader was unimaginable to many of the forest-bound Clan. Sorreltail herself had been a very young kit when the brave Fireheart had received his nine lives and become Firestar. She too, much like the others, could only stand stunned, horrorstruck at the sight before her.

Her gaze was not, however, directed at her leader, but rather at the cat just a few tail-lengths below Firestar. The brown tabby head hung limply and his eyes were just barely visible slits of burning amber, betraying everything he felt: anger, hurt, betrayal, anxiety, confusion, fear…

As Sorreltail watched, Brambleclaw painstakingly raised his head to face the rest of the Clan. She heard a few cats mutter to each other:

"He really saved Firestar? _Brambleclaw_ did?"

"I can't believe it…"

"Is that _really_ what happened?"

The tortoiseshell felt the fur on the back of her neck rising. She could feel the thickness of distrust creeping around the Clan. Every cat knew who Brambleclaw's father was. Even kits born seasons after the end of his reign, were told stories about the terrible crimes committed by the wicked Tigerstar. No matter what any cat said, Sorreltail knew that in the back of nearly every cat's mind there was always doubt about the younger tabby's loyalty. Even Sorreltail herself sometimes found it hard to believe that Brambleclaw could ever fully escape his father's dark legacy.

Now, though, she also knew that Brambleclaw was telling the truth and that it was time for the Clan to put their misgivings behind them and judge the tabby tom for who he was standing there in front of him: an honest cat, a warrior, and a hero.

"Hawkfrost had planned murder," the tabby choked finally. Sorreltail could see just how much it was costing Brambleclaw to just stay standing. His gaze fell back to his paws. "I had to kill him to save Firestar."

There was silence. Sorreltail did not know if she had ever seen her Clan so at a loss for words. She looked around desperately. Surely _someone_ had _something _to say? Should she say something? How much would it mean for _her_ to come to his defense, being too young to have lived through all of Tigerstar's treachery herself?

Finally – "Good job, Brambleclaw."

The tortoiseshell let out a sigh of relief as the tension in the Clan was broken by Dustpelt's meow. She was glad it had been the elder brown tabby who had spoken up. He had, after all, been one of the cats who had grown up around Tigerstar and he had rejected the exiled tom outright. That he would stand up for Brambleclaw now meant more than anything she could ever say. Already other cats began to take onto Dustpelt's lead, nodding to the younger warrior or murmuring their approval.

Sorreltail watched the rest of the meeting silently, never taking her eyes off of Brambleclaw: she watched as he shifted uncomfortably under the Clan's eye, then committed to taking Hawkfrost back to RiverClan.

As the meeting ended, cats began to shift around, most heading back to their dens quickly rather than milling about in the camp. It was clear that cats were still uneasy about what had happened. Sorreltail felt a warm body press against hers, nudging her toward the nursery. She resisted for a moment, then gave into Brackenfur's encouragement. She turned to him, warmth and sadness mingling in her eyes; she was not surprised to see that her mate wore the same expression.

The pair of them reached the nursery and stopped. The milk scent clinging to the pelts of the kits and queens inside was welcoming, as were the scents of her own four kits. She knew that she should go in, curl herself around the four and head off to sleep for the night, but something was stopping her – some nagging thought in the back of her head.

She looked at her paws, then at Brackenfur. "I have to go for a while and… see someone."

"Oh, who?" meowed the golden-brown tom, tilting his head to the side curiously.

The she-cat shifted her paws. "A friend."

Brackenfur's eyes widened slightly and he mewed, "Not Brambleclaw…?"

"Yes, Brambleclaw," Sorreltail meowed back tersely, annoyed with the twinge of jealousy in Brackenfur's voice. "He needs someone right now."

"And that someone has to be you?" Brackenfur questioned, flicking his tail impatiently.

The tortoiseshell only stared back at him, frustrated. His words were reasonable – she, after all, had young kits that needed her to look after them right now – but his attitude aggravated her. The fur on her neck began to bristle. "Have Daisy look after the kits for me."

Brackenfur opened his mouth to protest, but stopped himself. Instead he meowed plainly, "Fine."

Sorreltail hesitated, then reached over and touched her nose to her mate's cheek warmly. He returned the gesture and she stepped back, watching him for a moment more, then turning away and running back out of the camp after Brambleclaw's scent trail. It was easy to find, being so fresh and so familiar; she was surprised, though, at how short of a distance he had gone. Was he having doubts? Concerns? Was he fearful of what he was about to see again?

The tortoiseshell hung back. For the first time, she wondered if the tabby would even want to see her now. Would he be pleased to have her company – or would he be angry that she had dared to follow him?

She and the tabby had been close friends since kithood, each a perfect match for the other; his patience had always paired well with her energy. He was her favorite wrestling partner when they were still in the nursery and her favorite hunting partner once they were both apprentices. They shared prey often. He always listened to her and she always listened to him. She felt like she knew him better than any other cat, even her siblings. At one point, once they had gotten a bit older, Sorreltail had even started to think about the day she would be in the nursery, together with him, looking after their kits.

And then he had gone away. And he had found Squirrelflight. And he was still the same cat – but wasn't.

And Sorreltail had forgotten her dreams and moved on.

_Perhaps it was for the best_, she thought, as she trekked through the forest behind him, following his mellowed scent. _Brackenfur has been good to me and Squirrelflight…_ _will hopefully be good for him._

The tortoiseshell paused as she reached a thicket of briars and the salty stench of blood ruled the air. There was near-silence ahead – just the sound of the waves lapping up against the lake shore and the chirping of crickets came from that direction – and Sorreltail wondered what Brambleclaw was doing. Had he moved his brother? Was he even still there?

She took a tentative step forward, ducking beneath the undergrowth. The brown tabby was near the lake shore, staring up at the sky. The limpness of his stance hurt Sorreltail to look at. She had not seen him so distraught in moons.

Forgetting all of her questions, all of her misgivings, all of her nervousness, the tortoiseshell stepped forward out of the trees and joined the tabby on the lake shore. She sat beside him. Their fur touched gently.

Brambleclaw did not look at Sorreltail, she did not look at him, but it did not matter. They were together again.

Sitting silently together under the light of StarClan, they were once again whole, each completing the other. They did not love each other – perhaps they never truly shared that particular feeling – but they _were_ bonded now, just as they had always been. Sorreltail was once again the cat at Brambleclaw's side – not necessarily the one he wanted, but the one he needed.

As one they stood, mirroring each other's movements, as they picked up Hawkfrost's body and slowly began taking it on its final journey.


	17. Corruptshipping

**A/N**: This could be considered a companion piece to my other fic about Goldenflower and Tigerstar (entitled "Devotion"). You should go read that one too. ;)

**Corruptshipping**

Goldenflower x Tigerclaw

A broad-shouldered brown tabby stalked through the forest, his head and tail held low, his body close to the ground. All around him the warm, sickly scents of the enemy clung to moss, fern, and tree. He paused, checking the scent of the air for other cats, before continuing on over an open patch of ground. The tom flattened his ears crossly, hating the cowardly move, but in this time, he found it smarter to sacrifice some of his pride rather than be detected.

A few moments later, though, he paused again. This time he dared to raise his head slightly, peeking over the undergrowth to look ahead: he saw only more dense forest. He stared, his expression blank, then pressed on ahead, knowing that he was headed in the right direction.

_No_, he thought after a few more minutes of walking. The territory around where he was did not look right. There were far too many pines. _Have I forgotten…?_

The sound of pawsteps caught his attention. His ears shot up and he pressed himself to the ground again. The quiet, yet steady sound of crunching dead leaves told him that it was another cat. He crept backwards, away from the cat, until he was concealed in a bramble bush. The sound got louder, the pawsteps quicker – the cat was coming toward him, purposefully it would seem. He unsheathed his claws and flexed his toes, readying himself to pounce.

As the cat emerged from behind some ferns, the flash of ginger fur caused the tabby's eyes to widened in rage. _Fireheart!_

He leapt forward, claws outstretched and ready to tear his enemy apart. The ginger cat let out a yelp as he hit his mark, tackling the warrior to the ground. He raised a paw menacingly. There would be no games, no mistakes this time – just the death of the cat who had ruined _everything_.

The tabby let out his own growl of surprise as the cat nimbly tucked itself into a ball, pushed up on his chest with its hind legs, and rolled backwards, away from him. He staggered back a few steps, bewilderment burning in his eyes. That was a move they had not taught in ThunderClan for moon! When had _he_ learned it?

He shook his head, tossing the thought away. It did not matter if the kittypet had a new defensive move; the tabby was still stronger. He spat and crouched down again, ready to attack again.

He stopped. The ginger cat was already up, standing straight and still as it looked at him. The fur was too pale, the cat too small, the scent not right – this was not Fireheart, but a she-cat instead. He raised one ear in confusion and stared back. Why was she not fighting? Why was she not running?

Why was she just _standing there_?

His amber eyes burned as he looked into her pale yellow gaze. The tabby hissed, trying to muster up some hatred – _anything_, even – that would allow him to fight against an opponent who would not fight back… against an opponent who would not even show fear.

He stared. She stared back. Neither backed down.

"You're not afraid," he meowed finally, his tail lashing with indignation. Her eyes widened and he smirked; now she would run…

A heartbeat later, her eyes closed and she shook her head slowly, deliberately. When she looked back at him again, the tabby still saw no fear or anxiety – just a cold, dignified sadness. She meowed, her voice quiet, "Should I be?"

_Of course, you ThunderClan fool! _The tabby tensed; the fur on the back of his neck and his tail bristled. He shifted his back paws, preparing to strike.

"Remember when you left?" the she-cat began to meow. "How you asked Darkstripe and Longtail and Dustpelt to come with you? You didn't ask me." Silence again; the ginger cat sighed, "I would have said yes."

The tabby's eyes widened, the hate melting away from them like the frost off of a leaf. For the first time, he saw not an enemy, but another cat – a she-cat with sleek, well-groomed fur and wide, caring eyes. He saw a cat that was suffering and making no attempt it… making no attempt to hide the fact that she was missing someone.

_I miss you too, Goldenflower._

It was true, the tabby thought. He missed the feel of her fur against his and the sound of her voice in his ear. He missed the longing looks she gave him. He missed watching her graceful, lithe figure weave through the forest on patrol. He missed watching her skillful stealth as they hunted together.

And, most of all, he missed the unwavering loyalty she had to him.

The tabby's amber eyes glowed with regret. Why had he not asked her to come with him? Why had he trusted those other fools more than he had trusted his own mate? What had they ever done to prove themselves to him?

His claws sliced into the ground. It had been a mistake.

Looking back, everything made sense – _everything_ Goldenflower had done, she had done for him. She had trained harder than most as an apprentice both to impress him and to encourage him to do the same. She hunted faster so she could come back and share prey with him each night. She had been there for him when he needed someone to talk to. She had supported him even when he had tossed aside all other relationships to focus on gaining their leader's favor. When she had taken her first mate, she had only done so to bring his attention back to her. When he said he wanted kits, she had purred that she did as well…

He twisted one ear to the side, thinking for a moment about the two tiny kits in the ThunderClan camp that he had left behind, one a brown tabby and one a pale ginger – perfect copies of their parents.

The tabby blinked. The she-cat was still staring at him, motionless except for the anxious quiver of her tail. She was still in love with him, still loyal to him, he could tell – that had not changed – but she was forced to stay separate from him.

But he could change that – _they_ could change that. They could be Tigerclaw _and_ Goldenflower again…

"Then say yes now," breathed the tabby, taking a tentative step forward. "I'm not just a rogue now, I'm _more that that_…"

He launched himself into an explanation of everything he had done since leaving ThunderClan, from living on the edge of Twolegplace, to meeting some of the rogues he had once driven out of ShadowClan and fighting for their respect. He told her that he had his own Clan now, stringing those rogues together, that he was a _leader_, finally – and that he knew still that he was destined to be _more_. He spoke in a fervent whisper, wanting to share his aspirations with her, and her only.

One day soon, he would be a proper leader and she would be his faithful partner, at his side always…

His expression fell as she shook her head again. Frustration and confusion burned in the tabby's eyes. _What…?_

"No," Goldenflower meowed, her voice somber, "I would have gone with you then, but not now. Not after seeing what you've become."

_What I've become…?_

Tigerclaw took a step back, then another, then two more, his mind reeling. He searched Goldenflower's now-blank expression, trying to find something there to cling to. Had he imagined the longing in her eyes before? Had he imagined her love? Had he misjudged _everything_?

He spat, thwarted. _Yet another mistake…_

The brown tabby turned away, hesitating for a moment as the she-cat opened her mouth to speak again. A brief flicker of hope shot through him, but he clenched his teeth and looked away from her. He had been wrong. Goldenflower had never loved him, or she would not have rejected him now that he was finally getting to be a leader and the cat he had always wanted to be. She would have still supported him, no matter what he had done to get here…

_I was wrong… wrong to trust _you_, ThunderClan filth_. _I should have known you'd been corrupted…_

He turned his back to her and ran, a growl escaping his jaws to echo her rejection. His claws tore furrows through the ground as he ran, imagining that he was shredding the forest that had taken the one cat who could have been his only true ally away from him.


End file.
